“Phoenix, Arizona’s Thra start with that syrupy death metal reduction and ask themselves, “How can we make this even uglier and stupider?” The answer: with sludge, of course. Yes, the one metal form even less concerned with hygiene, boasting the highest aural density and the lowest dynamic range.” Where the sludge live.
“One thing I discover in the promo sump every now and then is the longevity of random bands I’ve never heard of. While many one-man black metal projects working out of their respective mom’s basements rear corpse-painted faces, I certainly did not expect a metalcore band to fall into this category. It is a bit of a coincidence to me that Newburgh, New York veterans All Out War comes on the heels of my last 2022 TYMHM, Geneva’s Nostromo, because all the hallmarks are there.” Eternal war (core).
“2022 was a year of mucho death metal in the Charnel House of Steel. In fact, I listened to more of it than I did at any time since the early-to-mid-90s. The rogue pathogens and/or testy fungi released into the atmosphere during the Great Pandemic awoke something ugly in my Medusa oblongata, refracting my musical tastes back to my meatheaded twenty-something days. 2023 rolls around and I’m still stuck marinating in that rot tub grime machine. This unhealthy predilection led me to Seattle upstarts Re-Buried and their Repulsive Nature debut.” Ground n’ pound.
“The one-sheet accompanying the promo described Sepsis as “dark metal,” a term usually thrown around with great ease by Century Media Records in the late 90s and early 2000s to describe practically all of their roster. However, Sepsis owns that adjective, because this shit is dark. The frantic fills and percussive abuse by Jon Vinson on, well, every song here punctuates the howling-from-the-abyss Eyehategod-like vocals of bassist Aaron Dallison, who seemingly channels his rage and disappointment in humanity from a neverending well.” Consult a physician.
“Back in the early 90s, Louisiana wasn’t the only locale with conditions ripe for the development of sludge metal. Congealing in 1991, Boston, Massachusetts’ Grief were similarly influential in forging a template for how sludge, especially sludge doom, would develop in the subsequent decades. original Grief members Chuck Conlon (drums) and Terry Savastano (guitar) kept a candle burning for their former band until 2017 saw them resurrect the project, this time as Come to Grief. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect considering world events since then, and 2022 sees the full-length debut of their current iteration, the aptly named When the World Dies.” Come to silver, come to sludge.
“As spring progresses, the ever-more-present sun brings light and warmth, for some even a promise of hope. Cavernlight throw scorn on the very idea. As I Cast Ruin Upon the Lens That Reveals My Every Flaw follows their habit of epically proportioned titles. It also continues the trend of dealing with existential suffering and despair. Where it differs is in the way it delivers its message. As We Cup Our Hands and Drink from the Stream of Our Ache was a relentless rhapsody of torment, railing and raging with metallic furor. As I Cast Ruin… feels like a step beyond this rawness, to a deep, depressive apathy and acceptance.” The end of light and hope.
“So many outside motivators have this way of impacting everything you do in life. You set a plan down, put it into motion, get all your t’s crossed, your i’s dotted, and you always remember to carry the one over to the next column on the left whenever you’re adding…and then, you’re blindsided by a person, situation, or some other thing that topples your best-laid intentions like a house of cards. For Churchburn’s Dave Suzuki, it was the loss of a family member last year.” Time burns us all.
“Don’t you hate it when people randomly come up to you and force you into happiness? You know, the types that just get in your face and tell you that “You’d be (prettier, handsomer, approachable, etc.) if you’d just smile more”? Because there are fewer things more unnerving and anger-inducing as toxic positivity, especially when we’re still a good couple of feet underwater when it comes to the pandemic, American politics, and the world continuously burning all around us. Californian duo Our Place of Worship Is Silence knows this, having thrown down just three years ago with With Inexorable Suffering, a promising album that combined the ugliness of sludge, the brutality of hardcore, and the murk of French black metal.” Worship the unsilent rage.
“I’m not entirely sure why, but it seems black metal musicians enjoy carte blanche when it comes to incorporating other genres into their music. Everything from Appalachian folk to shoegaze to African American work songs to opera has been shoehorned into the supposedly kvltest of all metal. Not to mention any other metal genre can just add a little “blackened” seasoning in the mix for tasty results. It’s like the sparkling wine of metal: pairs well with anything. American bi-coastal band Hellish Form has looked at those corpse painted musical polyamorists and asked a question so bold, so elegant it brings a tear to my doom-loving eye: If black metal can do it, why not funeral doom? WHY NOT FUNERAL DOOM? That’s right, Hellish Form take the niche-est of metal styles and cries “Moar niche-er!”” Beseech the Remains.
Serena Cherry has a knack for melody. In her storied career with Svalbard, the charismatic vocalist and guitarist has co-written and performed a decade of melodic hardcore tinged with post-hardcore, post-metal, and black metal. Now, Cherry tries a little something different in her new solo project Noctule, hoping to “spread her dragon wings and take off in an intriguing musical direction on her own. A labor of love and isolation, Cherry composed and recorded the Noctule debut while in the UK Coronavirus lockdown. Opposed to the melodic hardcore leanings of Svalbard, she now bets it all on black in blackened release Wretched Abyss, an album themed after the popular RPG Skyrim.” Dragon, why do you cry?
