“We all have our dirty metal secrets that we selfishly keep to ourselves, only sharing with a select few close to us. Or alternatively, we incessantly talk up underground gems and spread the gospel to anyone that will listen, as we cherish our slice of underground cred. Into the Obscure aims to right the wrongs and unearth the artists/albums that for whatever unjust reason didn’t get the exposure or credit they sorely deserved the first time round.” Everything’s Rune(ed).
“Taking the leap from trolling in the comments section to writing serious reviews made me realize how little I really know about an increasingly complex metal genre. Perhaps this is endemic of an ever more experimental metal scene where genre-spanning efforts are becoming more common and reviewers throw out increasingly long lists of sub-sub-categorizations. Perhaps I’m young and lack the knowledge base of my elders. Perhaps there is just more music around these days. Whatever the case, Wolfhorde have let the dogs out with the genre hopping Hounds of Perdition, but is this sophomore effort about to get Old Yellered by yours truly?” Blackened dogs.
“When I was a boy, busy putting my beleaguered vertebrae through a heavy metal crash course in brain surgery, there were a few records that would stay with me forever. On the death metal spectrum, my friends and I loved nothing more than realigning the atoms of our necks to the dulcet tones of Consuming Impulse or Realm of Chaos. Malevolent Creation’s first two albums, The Ten Commandments and Retribution, were also prime influences in our quest for spinal reconfiguration. I even rather enjoy the much-maligned Stillborn, despite its horrendous production. But, of course, this isn’t a retrospective of death metal’s classic era, it’s a review of Malevolent Creation’s newest offering and the first since the untimely passing of frontman Brett Hoffmann.” Altered beasts.
“No, Noctambulist do not sound like Blood Incantation, Sulphur Aeon, Immolation, or Gorguts. Or at least, they don’t sound more like Immolation or Gorguts than Ulcerate do. How the press kit missed Noctambulist’s most prominent and obvious influence—not to mention one of a much higher profile than either of the more modern bands mentioned—might never be known. Did Ulcerate become uncool? I doubt it on the grounds that (1) Noctambulist like them enough to try to sound almost exactly like them, and more importantly, (2) that I, as the sole arbiter of brutality both here and in the universe at large, am the only force with the power to decide if and when Ulcerate could ever become uncool.” Kronos knows.
“The life of the unpaid, overworked metal reviewer is not an easy one. Cascading promos, unreasonable deadlines, draconian editors and the unwashed metal mobs – it makes for a swirling maelstrom of music and madness. In all that tumult, errors are bound to happen and sometimes our initial impression of an album may not be completely accurate. With time and distance comes wisdom, and so we’ve decided to pull back the confessional curtain and reveal our biggest blunders, missteps, oversights and ratings face-plants. Consider this our sincere AMGea culpa. Redemption is retroactive, forgiveness is mandatory.” Bygones begone.
“There’s something special in the water, air, or spider-venom in Australia. More and more, the Land Down Under is becoming a hotbed for top class progressive metal, and I’m getting to a point where I’ll blindly leap onto anything labeled Aussie prog, even if it has a cover as baffling as Aver’s Orbis Majora. Who thought ‘now all these naked space ladies need is having their arms melted together, getting them stuck to a giant bile-green orb, and replacing their heads with purple planets?'” Orbs of reckoning.
The last transmissions of a Wvrmy mind contains a review of a dangerous album. Wrist, meet razor.
“Ever since I was a wee n00bian babe, Steel Druhm has been threatening to smother me with a metalcore pillow. Personally, I’ve always lived by the adage “If thou must be smothered, thou shouldst at least choose the pillow.” So rather than let Steel continue to hang The Core of Damocles above my head, I decided I would take matters into my own hands and pick up the next available metalcore promo. Hymns for the Hollow is the second album from Swedish band Leach and upon first glance it seemed as if it would do the trick. Surely I will gain copious brownie points by volunteering for this selfless martyrdom, no?” Attach the Core of Triumph.
“Melodeath that does literally anything different will always catch my eye, so Lahmia’s progressive, occasionally gothic, always interesting take on the genre was very welcome. But seven long years later, the Italians only now submit a second entry for consideration. The layoff brings changes, including a revamped sound that plays with fire given the exceptional strengths of their previous output. But if there’s justice in the world, Resilience will pull enough the tricks out of their sleeve to wow you.” Rise or fall?
“I normally don’t take the whole “new year, new me” maxim seriously at all. I mean sure, improvements are a good thing, right? But an entire overhaul of oneself is completely unnecessary. That said, my first review of the year isn’t a one-person black metal project. How novel! In fact, said review involves the words “sludge” and “Louisiana,” two words that’ll make me shove other writers here aside like Patsy Stone gunning for her favorite bottle of vodka. Yep, Slake, the debut album from Louisiana power trio Woorms, broke my combo of icy-cold bedroom blackness once and for all, and you would think that I would be a happy camper here.” From black to blues.
