“Until a few years ago, I didn’t realize that technical death metal was even a thing. Sure, I’d heard it before, but in my simple mind, tech-death was merely death metal that goes ‘clickity-clickity click and noodly-noodly nood, and sometimes has a bass that goes farty-farty fart.’ As you can imagine, I was relieved to find out that there’s a shorter way to describe this genre.” Commence the noodly-noodly!
“I decided to atone for this cowardice by chugging some audible sludge in the form of Damned in Endless Night, the third full-length album from British wrecking crew Warcrab. I don’t listen to much sludge but the choice band name, impeccable logo, and Bolt Thrower comparison in the promo lured me into the Warcrab pot, and the musical chum I found within was so good that I couldn’t escape—nor would I want to.” Wharf arts.
“Never, however, have I wished that someone take your average British motorway as musical inspiration. In complete disregard of my wishes, Bristol, UK band The Road have done just that. On this, their self-released debut, Reverence Redacted, the Bristolian two-piece draw on the “crushing oppressiveness of the British motorway experience”—personally, I would say “soul-crushing oppressiveness”—to inspire their post-doom offering.” Trapped on the highway to Hell.
“In this decade, death metal doubled down on its inaccessibility and became all the better for it. Whether that inaccessibility finds expression through old school pummeling or the more abstract sounds of the genre’s new torch-bearers, it’s hard to see the scene as unhealthy or in any way tamed. It wasn’t always like this, though. The 2000s were not so kind to death metal and at the tail end of that decade a scramble to reinvigorate the genre produced acres of lackluster material that was largely defined by its relationship to Meshuggah.” Negative, Ghostrider.
“‘Be careful what you wish for, yo,’ they tell me. Well, they, and everybody else, also tell me to smile more, to not swear so fucking much in front of the children, and to stop stealing money from the holiday party collection jar to buy cigarettes and scratch tickets… take a wild guess how that’s going.” Scratch tickets and violent hands.
“Heavy lies the meathead that wears the crown.”
“I grabbed this album for one reason, and one reason only: the band name. Here in Canada, at least, one can’t help see the word Eradikator and think of this timeless skit from national treasures Kids in the Hall. I’d never heard of these swaggering Brits prior to seeing their name pop up in my promo feed, so I didn’t know that Obscura is their third album this decade and that they fancy themselves a pure heavy metal band whose music will ‘make even the most hardened ears hemorrhage liquid steel.'” Feel the steel.
“Metal, especially doom metal, is uniquely equipped to convey the existential threat of environmental disaster at the largest scale, the human systems that are causing it, and the inadequacy of those same systems to mitigate it. Enter eco-doom band Sūrya. Greg, one of the guitarists, had this to say in a recent Cvlt Nation interview: ‘Some metal bands like to write songs about fucking wizards and Satan and I’m fully into that as theater and entertainment. But the sheer rapacity of capitalism and the epoch we find ourselves in, the Anthropocene, is the scariest thing imaginable. It’s just so fucking bleak.'” The future bleak.
“Once named Aetherium Mors, this two-man project since altered their moniker so as to better refine their brand of blackened extremity. The material contained within the self-titled debut is proficient and mature in its composition. But sometimes, the often overlooked simplest tenets are the most necessary in creating a truly stirring compound.” Refining darkness.
“What does it mean for an album to be memorable? Usually we consider it a good thing, as a good hook that sticks with you can prolong the enjoyability of a record, sticking with you even beyond your listening sessions. But shitty third-tier pop music often keeps inadvertently muscling its way into your brain, especially for those who are forced to listen to the tripe during work hours (trust me, I’ve been there.) Conversely, some powerful music may not have a high memorability, particularly when it’s of the atonal or atmospheric proclivity. The latter is decidedly not what Morass of Molasses are attempting, though.” Attach the Stone of Sludge Fuzz!
