“An amalgamation of sludgy riffs, frantic drumming, and some caustic vocals by Graham Christian that recalls a beloved British band with the word “iron” in their name, Cruickshank’s debut throws an awful lot of thematically disparate sounds together, but they mostly mesh decently.” Grind n’ shank.
“For music that should appeal to stoners, the thought of burning horses sounds like a very bad trip indeed, but that isn’t the case here and the incongruent imagery is the first of many surprises offered up by these West Virginians. Despite The Thief only being their second album, after 2016’s Dead Seeds, Barren Soil, these guys are no n00bs.” Horse play and cat fancying.
“Arkhaaik have, for reasons best known to them, decided to write and perform this in proto-Indo-European (PIE). The PIE tongue, last spoken several thousand years BC, remains only partially reconstructed. And this, according to my extensive Wikipedia research, at least explains the asterisks, which are used to mark reconstructed words. What’s that? Enough linguistic history? Well, there’s more but, if you’re sure.” Dead tongues and other creepy things.
“This site has introduced me to countless gems that have captivated me and permanently improved my life in inimitable ways, yet even my most heartfelt exercises in overrating have failed to yield ‘that’ album unto me… until now. With Theia, the sophomore full-length from Austria’s Glare of the Sun, I have found completion, something that fills my Muppet void in ways that would make Ron Jeremy blush.” Sun worshiping.
“If you’re not challenging yourself, if you’re not occasionally exposing yourself to uncomfortable feelings and emotions, especially with a genre as extreme as metal, then why bother? Good art is discomforting and sometimes painful, and Swedish metallers This Gift Is a Curse are strong adherents of this view.” Suspicious packages.
“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!
“If I were to start babbling about an American amalgamation of ancient elephants, roundness without fault and the pitch of Yasin Bay’s voice, I’d know what I was talking about but I’d be the only one. Similarly, when the promo bin tells me something is “math metal,” no particularly useful information has been conveyed. I had no idea what to expect from Irata’s third album, Tower, because of this very tag. Turns out, a progressive post-rock sign would have steered me toward the right ballpark; had the bin/Muppet communicated in plain English rather than being a fucking weirdo about it, I/you would have known that much sooner that the North Carolinans in question sound something like Mastodon, A Perfect Circle and Deftones having a casual orgy.” Communication breakdowns, yo.
“During my short tenure at AMG, I’ve discovered the magical terror that is the Promo Bin. While it is a World War I-esque no man’s land of one-man black metal carpet bombs, awkwardly rumbling deathcore tanks, nu-metal mustard gas, and experimental drone-doom PTSD, you can find some gems in the trenches while the good Lord Himself picks us, contributors, off one by one. It’s a trve and rvthless battle of good vs. evil, light vs. dark, Jedi vs. Sith, Kramer vs. Kramer, power metal vs. actual metal. It’s all about balance, after all.”
“A certain thespian poise dominates throughout Syntheosis, the piece originally commissioned for Roadburn Festival 2018 and then turned into a proper studio recording. Highly conceptual, Waste of Space Orchestra narrate a quite demented story somewhere between magical realism and occult horror. The album develops intently and purposefully, tracing the lines of an imagined ritual and its performers, three mysterious creatures that aim ‘to open a portal that will suck them into a different reality of brain-mutilating color storms and ego-diminishing audio violence.’” Waste not, want more.
“In 2015 I reviewed the sophomore album from Swedish post-metallers The Moth Gatherer (TM). It’s an album on which I dwelt somewhat and their name is an amusingly evocative one for me. I affectionately refer to them as The Moth Botherer with an accompanying internal image of a child wielding an old-school bug catcher trying to swipe moths from the air. Indeed, this portmanteau and rhyme generator recently unveiled to me generated the genius fusion of ‘Chrysolicit’. There’s a lot to be said for an imagination-inducing title so it was with interest that I approached Esoteric Oppression.” Wings of oppression.
