“If I were looking for a way to market Helpless, I would describe them as a combination of the brutal rage of Nails with the wild noise of Anaal Nathrakh – yet perhaps a more accurate description is simply “a grindier Gaza.” Like them, Helpless’s lifeblood is dissonance.” Noise as art.
“Comprised of a line-up featuring a combined membership of various high profile bands, including Iron Reagan, Gatecreeper, Municipal Waste, and Six Feet Under, perpetual pun machine Cannabis Corpse have risen beyond pure parody status to forge their own identity in the death metal underground. Paying tribute to their slightly tweaked namesake, specifically the Barnes-era, and the ’90s Floridian death metal scene at large, remains the band’s weed bread and hash butter.” The grass is always greener.
“I had my doubts that Blackfinger would even make a 2nd album, given Wagner’s relocation as well as his increased involvement with The Skull. But much to my pleasant surprise, here we are with a new lineup and a new record.” Back in Blackfinger.
“‘But.’ No other word in the English language possesses the sheer life-building/soul-crushing power of that three-letter word. It tears someone down after a volley of praise and it also builds them back up following harsh criticisms. When that word appears, shit goes down and gets real immediately.” Ifs, ands and buts.
“Addition, subtraction, so much of metal involves the bolting-on and prying-off of countless sub-genres. Musicians and critics often fall into the trap of viewing music less as an expression of fertile creativity and more like a chest of drawers awaiting assembly. Start with a death metal base, insert black metal vocals into socket B, affix progressive chords perpendicular to the shelves… wait, we’re missing two slats and I’ve stripped a screw. Billed as a melding of tech death, black, and thrash, Omnipotence – The Infinite Darkness by Toronto natives Astaroth Incarnate had the cynic in me guessing the end-result without listening to a single note.” Maths are hard.
“While Death Alley sticks with the upbeat rock ‘n’ roll of Motörhead, Captain Beyond, and Blue Öyster Cult, Finland’s Mausoleum Gate goes for dark, jamming, progressive song structures, with a fuck-ton of organs. Like, Deep Purple levels of organ. And this is where, I suspect, readers will be split. If you aren’t the type to buy an original print of Machine Head (even if it’s fifty cents), Into a Dark Divinity ain’t for you. But, old-timers looking for an interesting combination of BÖC and Purple, with hints of Angel Witch, should read on.” Enjoy of Deep Purple.
“Melodeath bands often fall into the trap of monotone execution, plying their Entombed trinkets and Insomnium baubles with every riff of every song. Poorly-produced Winter Jari bobbleheads might make a nice collector’s item, but unless you’re the American Wintersun utterly convincing in your ripoffs, playing songs that never form their own identity is a one-way ticket to the Dumpster of Destiny. Darkfall, est. 1995, register on the more vitriolic end of the melodic death spectrum, though they may protest otherwise.” Dumpster death.
“Splits are great ways to expand your musical repertoire when familiar with one of the bands collaborating. A level of mutual respect is presumed between the two: surely a favored artist will have good tastes themselves? And surely the twinned groups will offer something similar but sufficiently distanced for a neatly conjoined listening experience? Such conclusions seem logical.” Slashed by Occam’s razor.
“It’s the music that sends me careening through a canyon as dark as a Nick Cave soundtrack and as unique as a Sólstafir record. It has a suffocating mixture of Shining-like desperate, voice-throwing screams and cleans moodier than your grandma’s sanitarium. Coming off 2013’s Burzum-esque EP, I hoped Gärdefors would push on. I hoped for his refusal to revert back to the generic sounds of Fyra elegier. I hoped for more Syner. Well, my hopes became reality. And that reality is Arvet.” (TGIDF) Thank God It’s Depressive Friday.
“Like labelmates Graves at Sea and Lycus, and fellow American’s Bell Witch and Samothrace, Usnea live life in the slow(er) lane. Their brand of doom features a rotating spit of tasty off-shoots: funeral doom, black metal, sludge, and progressive metal all permeate through the five dense and atmospheric tracks of Portals into Futility, the band’s third full-length. A vague and ethereal science-fiction concept runs through the album, too. I’ve deduced this not from the lyrics but from the reading list supplied by the band: the works of Gene Wolfe, Ursula Le Guin, Carl Sagan, Margaret Atwood, Philip K. Dick, and Frank Herbert are expected to be cosmically crumbled into this curious concoction.” Sci-ops.
