It is time for the new year, and yet we spend its initial moments reflecting on works of the past. That’s because the works of the past are clogging up our damn Filter, and we need that to breathe in this hellhole we call a headquarters. We toil in the snow and the slush, freezing as the gunk clings to our definitely OSHA compliant protective suits and face masks. All so that you can maybe like but more likely dunk on the nuggets of treasure we find here.
Regardless of whether you enjoy what we find, we expect payment for our services. You can submit tithes via Venmo, Paypal, Bitcoin, hobo wine, unicorns, and/or goat sacrifices. Anything less will result in summary dismissal from the Hall!
Weird shit is my shit. Challenging albums that dare to subvert my expectations of the music held therein will always garner my respect. Enter UK avant-garde black metal outfit Void and their fourth LP Jadjow. A bizarrely short window spanned between this release and their previous record—only two years compared to eight years between albums one and two, ten between albums two and three. Despite the tight turnaround, the quality of the writing here is nothing to dismiss offhand. Opening duo “Fables From a Post-Truth Era” and “Interdaementional” showcase twisted songwriting dynamics, haunting vocals, squealing black metal riffs, woody blasts, and funky transitions. Consequently, they remind me of Ved Buens Ende, DHG, and Khôra. Yet, Void prove that the art of the riff is not lost in a sea of weirdness, throwing in headbangable themes and windmill-worthy whirlwinds left and right (“Only For You,” “Self Isolation,” “Swamp Dog”). Striking this balance between engaging hooks (“Fables From a Post-Truth Era,” “Swamp Dog”), danceable grooves (“Oduduwa’s Chain”), and intelligent songwriting dynamics (“When Lucifer Dies,” “Iniquitous Owl”) is tricky business, and yet Void take on the task with effortless grace and poise. In turn, fifty-six minutes of oddball progressive black metal fly by in a flash. You blink, you miss it. Don’t blink!
Do you ever wonder what melodic black metal would sound like if it had the same HM-2 tone as the filthiest Swedeath around? I sure never have. Yet, Vienna, Austria’s Irityll chose that exact combination to craft their debut LP, Schlafes Bruder. Comprising of two musicians with notable experience in the deathcore and brutal death metal worlds (Spire of Lazarus, Monument of Misanthropy), Irityll unexpectedly nail the icy black metal sound which defines Schlafes Bruder, but enhanced by the novel twist of an HM-2 buzzsaw tone. Ominous melodies and vicious blasting abound, as choice cuts like “Leichnam aus Überzeugung,” “Deppade Leit,” and “Sternengeiβel” all demonstrate with aplomb. Written in the same epic style of bands like Immortal or Dark Funeral, Schlafes Bruder succeeds primarily thanks to a tasty combination of minimalist drama and riff-focused intensity. The way itebbs and flows between soft passages and ripping black metal, blistering speed and militant marches, all feels natural, effortless, and leads to satisfying payoffs across the forty-four-minute runtime (“Schlafes Bruder,” “Reiter des Sturmes,” “Epitaphion”). And yet, it feels like just the beginning for Irityll. With more refinement and tightening of the screws, the duo could take even greater advantage of their novel sound profile with more distinct, individualized songwriting. I’m excited by that prospect, and you should be too.
If you’re familiar with Closet Witch already, or the closely related in sound and style Cloud Rat, then you’ll know that the brand of caustically-styled, emotionally-chiseled grind that they represent wastes no moment. Equally weighted by the slowing churns of powerviolence and piercing tones of screamo, Chiaroscuro, a name taken from the classical art technique of shadow-use/darkness contrast that creates wholeness, depth, and tone in a piece, uses each of its identities to drill eighteen minutes of caustic music to your memory. Unfortunately for newcomers or passerbys to the sonic assault that Closet Witch embodies, either the fuzz-rattled and blackened riffage, the clanging and splashing kit abuse, or the shrill and shrieking throat sacrifice build like a wall of bleeding noise. But in practice, Chiaroscuro contains an uncanny ebb and flow, finding footing in rhythmic refocusing (“My Words Are Sacred,” “Well-Fed Machine”), noise-assisted tip-offs (“You, Me, and the Venus in Decay,” “To the Cauldron”), and pedal-down thrusts (“Haunting,” “Arlington Cemetary”) to dog ear its shifts and landmarks. In this case, a horror-synth “Intro” and de-escalating, crinkled found-sound “Outro” are necessary to respectively set the stage and close the curtains. You don’t want to go into this cold, but Chiaroscuro burns so hot that you need a cooldown.
You ever sit there and wonder when you’re finally gonna find a melodic black metal album that’s actually cool? No? How about one that at least incorporates vibrant violin melodies, guitar identities outside of tremolo progressions, and actual growling bass presence? Well, if so, look no further than Exulansis, a folk-inspired four-piece who finds just as much home in the creeping doom of the string work that you’d hear in an old SubRosa jam as they do in the forested black metal of Wolves in the Throne Room. But in this case, Overtures of Uprising’s four tracks will require only thirty-two minutes (it’s not enough!!) of your hard-to-earn time, a healthy balance of two standard-length numbers against two longer explorations. Whereas their previous album, 2019’s Sequestered Symphony attempted to meld a lot more gothic folk into their sound, Exulansis went and trimmed that into a whole separate album (Hymns of Collapse) this go, which has left absolutely nothing to stand in the way of the bell-hammering drive of “Of Nature & Hatred” or the eerie and screeching “A Movement in Silence”.1 And when they do slow it down for the fanciful, classical violin melodies that signal the triumphant title track or the lurching doom of “Dawning,” Exulansis finds a way to capture the beat of an anxious heart. Unified by a melodic dread, Overtures of Uprising pushes this act closer to record that’ll grab me by the hand and never let go. Fortunately, I know these strong voices have more to say.
My end-of-year filter was badly clogged amidst the rush to finalize Listurnalia and absorb the mammoth number of releases that either flooded through late or had been backlogged. Nevertheless, in the end-of-year wash-up, I stumbled across the sophomore platter from French symphonic black metal act Deathcode Society, and their powerful, bombastic LP, Unlightenment. Traditionally, I am incredibly picky with my modern black metal, and much of the overly symphonic variety tends to fall flat or overdo the cheese. Comprised of seasoned players, Deathcode Society balances the elements deftly to craft an intriguing platter, with modern sheen and orchestral flair roughened up by second-wave influences and whiffs of later-era Emperor. The sympho-black formula can sometimes veer too drastically into melodramatic territory, adding too much fluff to soften the black metal bite. Thankfully, Deathcode Society generally nail things just right. Within the style, Deathcode Society exhibit a versatile and confident approach, as their epic, carefully layered sound ebbs and flows through diverse pastures. A technical edge permeates material that blisters and tears with speed and aggression, contrasting these pleasingly vicious assaults with mostly tasteful symphonic layers, a varied vocal palette, and long, twisty arrangements. Highlights include the potent, blasty one-two opening punch of “Scolopendra” and “Shards” dominate with sheer scope, ferocity and memorability, while the stellar “Mazed Interior” and “Scales” offer in-your-face aggression and more ambitious, head-spinning turns with maximum impact.
If you’re familiar with Closet Witch already, or the closely related in sound and style Cloud Rat, then you’ll know that the brand of caustically-styled, emotionally-chiseled grind that they represent wastes no moment. Equally weighted by the slowing churns of powerviolence and piercing tones of screamo, Chiaroscuro, a name taken from the classical art technique of shadow-use/darkness contrast that creates wholeness, depth, and tone in a piece, uses each of its identities to drill eighteen minutes of caustic music to your memory. Unfortunately for newcomers or passerbys to the sonic assault that Closet Witch embodies, either the fuzz-rattled and blackened riffage, the clanging and splashing kit abuse, or the shrill and shrieking throat sacrifice build like a wall of bleeding noise. But in practice, Chiaroscuro contains an uncanny ebb and flow, finding footing in rhythmic refocusing (“My Words Are Sacred,” “Well-Fed Machine”), noise-assisted tip-offs (“You, Me, and the Venus in Decay,” “To the Cauldron”), and pedal-down thrusts (“Haunting,” “Arlington Cemetary”) to dog ear its shifts and landmarks. In this case, a horror-synth “Intro” and de-escalating, crinkled found-sound “Outro” are necessary to respectively set the stage and close the curtains. You don’t want to go into this cold, but Chiaroscuro burns so hot that you need a cooldown.
