“The Withering is the follow-up to 2017’s Stabat Mater, which represented another slab of heavy gothic metal in Dominia’s catalog, as violins and keys did battle with harsh vocals and doomy riffs. Does the latest offering from Dominia see further growth or, well, a withering on the vine?” Roses are dead.
“I first became acquainted with Vananidr through the AMG metal forum. One of the contributors recommended the band’s second album, Road North, on the grounds that although it seemed, from afar, like a fairly straightforward, old-school black metal album, there was something compelling about it that kept him returning. Well, for once, the rabble was right: while Road North was far too long, it’s an unpretentious slab of second-wave, black metal goodness. It also sported that often-undefinable quality, possessed by bands like Immortal or Sacramentum, that brings you back again and again. I was impressed, and gladly signed up for the follow-up, Damnation.” X factoring.
“It never bodes well when a writer with squatter’s rights to a promo doesn’t raise a fuss when you snatch it from them. I selected Floridian death-doom band Worm’s second album Gloomlord from our putrid promo pit without doing my due diligence to see if they had been covered on the site before. Turns out they have, and the good Dr. Wvrm wasn’t even a little sorry to see this one go to a different writer.” Worm turns.
“We’re up to our ears in stoner rock and stoner doom most months. There’s an unusual quantity of it cascading through the AMG sluice and pouring to the promo cesspool. We can’t cover it all, but we try to dent the stone. Greek stoner doom crew Acid Mammoth are part of the endless tide, with Under Acid Hoof being their second platter of fuzzy, bong-friendly madness.” Feel the tusk.
“The moon is full, the candles in my bedroom are flickering, and the neighborhood feels like it’s burning to the ground. The sirens scream up and down the street, the homeless behind the dumpster are cursing at each other, and the drug dealers in next door’s complex are firing warning shots into the air. My bartending friends say the place is overcome by angry, aggressive creeps. And my colleagues at the psychiatric ward say the patients are howling at the moon. It’s like a re-imagining of Carrie, minus everyone’s favorite whipping boygirl. Yet, it’s a perfect night for the chaos that pours from my speakers.” Blackness in the night.
“2019 was a very good year for doom metal in general. However, I never got to review the real quality stuff, unless you count Hollow Leg which I would call sludge first, doom second. So I set upon Meridians with high hopes to see this changed for the better and claim my slice of the awesome doom pie.” Bone pie.
“New year! New you! Oh, how I hate that creed. At midnight on New Year’s Eve, I was sound asleep and alone, joyously flaunting my disregard for this most nonsensical of global traditions. I made no resolutions for the new year either. Yes, this edgiest of numbers started the year in unbearably cool style, so much so that the Master of Muppets itself will be admitting to knowing me any day now. I entered the Field of Desolate Promos with confidence… and somehow, I left with Ryte, the self-titled debut of Ryte, a doom-inspired psych rock/metal project from Austria.” New year, bad attitude.
“Album premieres are a gimmick. At least that’s what I thought until I had the chance to showcase this lovely example of epic/doom/stoner metal courtesy of up-and-coming Cincinnati rockers Blessed Black. Of course, to review an album is one thing, but to premiere that album, it better be worth clicking on more songs than just the single, and that’s certainly the case here.” Blessed luck.
“If you mopped up all the Darkthrone albums and wrung the juice out into a bucket, the grey slop collected would have the same general properties as To Fathom the Master’s Grand Design. Horned Almighty deliver their simplified black/death metal in a punky but neat package: ‘t’s crossed, ‘i’s dotted, Satans hailed.” Cleanup in aisle trve.
“I feel that I have not had the opportunity to review enough stuff from my countryfolk. It was with a certain amount of anticipation, therefore, that I pulled Schöpfungswut (Wrath of Creation), the third full-length by Porta Nigra, from the toxic waste of the promo pit. I had assumed, given their name, that they hailed from Trier, a town that houses the Roman Porta Nigra (Black Gate) and of which I am rather fond. We can safely dispense with the Trier history lesson I was planning to embark on, however, as they are from Koblenz, a city I know nothing about.” Hug your neighbors, then stab them.
