“As I close out the year with reviews, what better way than to go back to my roots? Is that vague? Maybe. Mysterious? Definitely. What on earth would I have in common with Heretical Sect? Am I a skeleton with a snake in my skull? Maybe. I’ll bring that up with the doctor later. I suppose you could ask: what do chile, Breaking Bad, Ancestral Puebloans, hot air balloons, and the worst pedestrian safety rating in the US have in common? Secting crew.
“Prior to this review, you could have jotted down what I knew about sean-nós singing on the back of a postage stamp and still had most of the stamp free for other notes. Still, we are where we all are and probably only Fós, a collaboration between Irish singer Orla Cadden Patel and multi-instrumentalist Fionn Murray, have much right to feel aggrieved. Sean-nós turns out to be a traditional form of Irish singing. Typically unaccompanied, the singing is highly ornamented in terms of melodic style and the lyrics often deal in laments and tales of historic events. That description does not, perhaps, suggest it as the obvious partner for electronica-driven drone but then, as I always try to explain to non-metal friends and colleagues who ask (and usually regret doing so), one of the things I love about metal is its seemingly endless ability to blend genres and influences.” Luck o’ the Irish.
“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.”
“During the Great N00b Off, I told myself that, should I one day be given unchaperoned access to the promo bin, I absolutely would not choose a band purely on the basis of its name. I would do my research and make an informed decision. So, following my first foray into the promo bin sans Steel Druhm, take a bow John, the Void, a band I chose purely for its name.” What’s in a name?
“I’ve learned that when it comes to the promo sump, metalcore sneaks in the back door. This makes sense. we at AMG like to joke about all things -core, so why explicitly say you’re a metalcore band in your promo? Why not say you play post-metal, and when you’re safe inside the city gates, sneak out of that Trojan horse and stab the shit out of us with your VERY EARNEST SCREAMING and siq breakdowns? And so it is that I find myself reviewing Sacrifices, the second full-length from Germany’s A Secret Revealed.” Core at the door.
“With expectations sky high after the mesmerizing Abyss, Wolfe returns with her highly anticipated sixth opus, Hiss Spun. One of Chelsea Wolfe’s key strengths as an artist lies in her ability to continually evolve and reinvent herself. Familiar strands tie her works together, but she is not in the game of repeating herself, as Hiss Spun firmly attests.” Wolfe at your doorstep.
“Despite what the band and album name may conjure up, Salt and Rot by God Root is not the latest word in primal vegan cuisine. What we have instead is the second release from the Pennsylvanian quintet, a sludgy, post-metal mediation that sings of soil and sky and man’s connection to both.” Have we finally reached post-Neurosis?
“Post-metal – like it’s nearest neighbor sludge metal – builds upon the foundations laid down by doom, keeping intact the throbbing riffs and ponderous pace while shedding much of the fantasy and occult trappings in favor of a more intellectual, existential outlook. If doom was about the “what” then one could argue post-metal is more about the “why?”” Ask why to the Mountain God.
“It seems like all the greatest adventures begin with a phone call. This particular call came about a month ago. The gentleman on the line was one of my brothers. Brother Grier had called to inform me he had purchased tickets to Southwest Terror Fest in Tucson, Arizona. His plane ticket was purchased, the hotel reservation was set, and I had no choice but to join him (he had apparently bought me tickets too).”Tales of brotherhood, beers and grind.
“There is a tendency, among music critics, to emphasize anything even vaguely related to experimentalism. For them, any album that smacks of avant-garde is either ‘a step forward’ or simply ‘beyond’. The trajectory, the direction and what boundaries the sound has allegedly trespassed are details that are almost always left undisclosed. The end result is that there is no critique, but instead an endless succession of attributes, excerpts and frustration.” Alex indicts the entire music reviewing industry as he digs into the interesting release by Mamiffer & Circle. Give us Hell, Alex!!
