“Tranquility is having one’s swamp to one’s self. Nothing beats the sultry shimmer of swamp silence. But silence is fleeting. Evil lurks in the hazy depths of the swamp. Upward through ancient mud rises Swampbeast, a mangled, tangled death metal creature. The beast is here to stay. Seven Evils Spawned of Seven Heads, Swampbeast’s debut full-length, drags a listener through a 36-minute mire of grinding putridity.” Running bog wild.
“Ageless Violence is a death metal album. You know the deal. Glorious Depravity is the band. There are a bunch of guys in it, cool guys, some of whom are in some other good-to-killer bands that don’t play this style. It’s 2020, they’re doing old school death metal like everybody else because it’s fun. Nothing wrong with that. Plus, they’re quite good at it, and Ageless Violence is an undeniably tight, well-made record. The “but” awaits.
“It’s hard to have hope sometimes. We live our lives constantly getting up and going, always moving onto the next thing—moths chasing flames that grow more elusive as the dawn approaches. We’re tortured by silence in a screaming year, laced with events of turmoil and perpetual change—a silver silence that holds a mirror up to our faces and our truths. And we don’t always like what we see. It’s hard to have hope when we’re distracted, romanced by the illusion of productivity, blinded by privilege, and shielding our weary eyes from discomfort. This is what makes Svalbard so important; they force us to look.” Dying to heal.
“Aseitas are the Northwest’s death metal answer to the Northeast’s black metal alchemists in Genevieve, twisting the most experimental threads of metal into sleeker, stronger songs. The Portland quintet’s eclectic experiments began with 2018’s Aseitas, a record that seemed woven from every strand of extreme metal’s experiments in the decade before it.” No brutality, no peace.
“Look at that album cover for a full minute. If that alligator doesn’t end up on Gardenstale’s end of the year round-up, I will personally ensure his redaction. You can thank prolific metal/punk photographer Teddie S. Talyor for that beauty, and you can thank Primitive Man / Vermin Womb frontman Ethan Lee McCarthy for Emanation Body.” Croc o’ gators.
“Finding catharsis in the midst of chaos is the name of the game these days. It’s why every tenth article in your COVID co-opted news avalanche feed is about a bunny who adopted stray kittens. It’s why last Saturday I watched a live stream of a drag queen disinfecting every surface in her kitchen while performing Queen’s “I Want to Break Free.” As the world around us is brought to its knees by the weight of uncertainty, we instinctively seek out and appreciate these small pressure release valves. Bands who ply their trade in chaotic styles should pay attention. Chaos plus time equals background noise, but there are two options to keep an audience engaged. The first is brevity. This is why hardcore punk albums are traditionally 25-30 mins long. The second is the thoughtful placement of sonic perches to rest upon.” Choose wisely.
“Chomping, gnawing, biting, gnashing, grinding, tearing. These are all things teeth can do. They are also things Teeth can do. As a proudly unbrutal prog weenie, The Curse of Entropy by the Californian brutal deathgrind band was a decidedly adventurous selection for yours truly. Perhaps this was a mistake. Perhaps I should have left this to others more thoroughly versed in brutality, like Kronos or Ferrous. Perhaps if I had left Teeth where it lay, I would still have my own teeth, rather than having them scattered across the floor.” Dental health.
“It’s early afternoon, and I have decided to embark on a rather lengthy walk. During this time I will be spinning Triumph & Disaster, the fourth full-length album from We Lost the Sea, and their second since the tragic loss of singer Chris Torpy. I load up the first song and notice something out of the corner of my eye—yes, I did see that right. The instrumental progressive post-metal album I’ve picked up has a fifteen-minute long opening track. Because I’m a terrible reviewer at heart, my brain does the only thing it can: it leaps to the nearest conclusion and prepares for a very long hour.” Time is a social construct.
“It’s been almost three years to the day since I reviewed Dysrhythmia’s last album, The Veil of Control. Of course that one appealed to me: it was loaded with virile, complex songs that at times borrowed heavily from King Crimson—specifically, that band’s The ConstruKction of Light era. Dark, heavy, and discordant, it all added up to an enjoyable romp through instrumental prog-metal fields. By not overstaying its welcome (6 songs in 36 minutes), the album managed to hold my attention longer than many other instrumental prog albums.” Prog with a punch.
“Flow is one of the hardest elements of songwriting to capture. It’s a combination of the fluid transition between song sections as well as a product of the interplay between rhythm and melody that creates a cascading feeling, and it often hides in the smallest details. I’d also argue it is one of the most important emergent properties of post-rock and post-metal, particularly the instrumental type. The illusion of being dragged along a river is among the genre’s most significant qualities. Ghosts of Glaciers is an instrumental post-metal band, set to release their third record of the decade, and their first since signing to Translation Loss. They are up against some stiff competition this year, including Russian Circles and Cult of Luna. Have they mastered the art of the flow, or is the river all dammed up with nowhere to go?” When the levee breaks.
