Amor Fati Productions

Mylingar – Döda Själar Review

Mylingar – Döda Själar Review

“Simply saying these Swedes sound insane would be completely underselling the bands bestial brand of barbaric blackened brutality. Döda Själar is death metal of the blackest, filthiest variety, the kind you turn to when Incantation or Convulsing just can’t quite hit that horrid spot.” Overkilled.

Saqra’s Cult – The 9th King Review

Saqra’s Cult – The 9th King Review

“The saqra of South American lore pesters, pranks, and provokes the lovely people residing in the former domain of the Inca Empire. Though unclear whether that tradition begat their codpiece affinity, Saqra’s Cult’s 2017 debut Forgotten Rites embraced that legacy surprisingly well for a bunch of Belgian black metallers glomming onto a different continent’s folk tales. Tribal black metal works about as well as [Insert Anything You Can Imagine, Really Here] black metal ever works—pretty damn well (if you can riff). But with The 9th King losing a lot of their overt South American influence, can Saqra’s Cult still put the can in Incan?” That pun stands alone.

Essenz – Manes Impetus Review

Essenz – Manes Impetus Review

“Stepping out of your comfort zone is often a healthy thing. Slither away from the soft bed you know into the cold bath of the unknown and you might find yourself with a new affection you never knew existed. When it comes to metal, by and large, this means black metal for me. Though I’ve run into the occasional band that surprises me with articulate frostiness, such as Mistur and Gaerea, the genre as a whole tends to linger outside my grasp. So here I am once more, venturing into the obtuse murk, with the harsh glare of Essenz, a German outfit of cryptically abbreviated band members.” From comfort to cvlt.

Necroblood – Collapse of the Human Race Review

Necroblood – Collapse of the Human Race Review

“No matter the genre, it’s always the same story: the vocals are good, the drums are good, but there’s only one thing we’re really listening for. “The riffs! The riffs!” we squeal, like starving kittens begging for milk, scrambling over each other for a chance to suckle from the Iommi teat. I admit that I, too, often find myself craving the Almighty Riff, desperately scouring the blogosphere in search of the satisfying crunch of a particularly well-crafted set of power chords. But there’s the occasional black day when I want something more. Something abusive. Bludgeoning. Something that will yank me into a dark room and beat me up, Hellraiser-style, until all I want is a Shamrock Shake and some Blood Command to ease me back into reality.” That’s gonna leave a mark.