Phobocosm - Bringer of Drought [2016]

Although the relentless 'cavern-core' trend of the past few years has quelled in the absence of convincing riffs and atmospheric dynamics that we associate with this murky, spelunking sub-genre, there is still plenty of chaos to be had around, Canada's Phobocosm being one of them, with influences of anything from Blasphemy to Ulcerate running amok through their thick, mired veins. Their debut, 2014's Deprived, was one of the reasons (alongside the creme de la creme output of pioneering mavericks like Antediluvian, Mitochondrion  and Portal) that, despite its blooding excess of unruly brutality and sluggish Incantation-worship, I still keep my faith in this niche of music, and it was inevitable that through the conduit of one Dark Descent Records the group would continue to expand its retinue as a budding entity of this formula. Granted, whatever genre it is we're talking about, it's a perpetual labor to patronize and renew your sound; not only that, but to execute the newfound divisiveness in a coherent manner... none of which Phobocosm have quite attempted on their sophomore, Bringer of Drought, leaving, perhaps, something more to be desired.

Yet when I say the Canadians have not upped or refined their cavernous repository at all, I am not instinctively correct, but rather reflecting on the paucity of fresh elements that would render the music as immersive and punishing as the debut. The Canadians, unsurprisingly, have brought their huge, lumbering, even slightly granular guitars to the fore, such that songs like bombastic, crushing ''Ordeal'' reveal they haven't at all kept their cutlery dusty, delivering astonishingly heavy and smoldering waves of low-end chugs and sludge-like ruptures. Still, the song is probably my favorite among the bunch, (we're talking 4 tracks stretching between 8-12 minutes) so the rest of the songs hardly exhibit the same level of tactile destructiveness and pulverizing force, or, if anything, allure. Throughout the other three songs, we're exposed to a lot of contemplative post-metal, limping, desolate arpeggios that burst into cloudy swathes of distortion and titular chords in an almost Neurosis-esque fashion, sans the experimental tribalism of the California giants, sinewy impulses of fairly 'straightforward' old school death metal tremolos joined up by loose aural sections that make up for plenty of emotional resonance, occasional drum fills daunting and intimidating on the way.

The picture you get isn't a whole lot different from what Deprived had to offer, although a sludge/post-metal leaning is apparent, almost as though the Canadians are morphing into something in the mode of Mouth of the Architect or Holland's Sistere. However, there is a aridity to the riffs that just makes them too dry, lacking in intricacy, to be paired with Ulcerate, Deathspell Omega, or their fellow countrymen Gorguts, who possess an immovable vocation for balancing the cataracts of brutality and unearthly technical deceptiveness in a storm of highly refined wizardry. Not that any band has to be enormously technical to evoke satisfying, even stunning music: that much is abundantly clear. Indeed, Bringer of Drought nevertheless destroys within the furrows of its neanderthal regime: penalizing walls of sound and magnitude. The vocals are trenchant and great, highly claustrophobic and monstrous, just as you'd want them to be, looming over the instrumentation like an overfed cyclops out of hell, sending the listener's tranquility into a grating spiral of falling dominoes. My gripe is that by and large this isn't the most innovative thing I've heard, and even though its kills in its own standards, there's a point where it ceases to offer the listener anything more. I, too, am content that new bands are still channeling this atavistic and visceral sound that the new generation of old school death metal fanboys seem so enamored by, but without refurbishing their style, bands like Phobocosm don't have plenty of space to grow into. Solid stuff, gets a passing verdict, though I'd still vie for their debut.

Highlights:
Ordeal
Fallen

Rating: 70%

Incinerate - Eradicating Terrestrial Species [2015]

The breeding ground for uncouth 90's death metal has grown more popular than it was during its heyday as a myriad outfits continue their mechanized, bloody advance to claiming their testators' legacy (i.e. Suffocation, Cryptopsy, Morbid Angel, etc.) but fruitfulness in such endeavors has rarely been the case. In other words, enter the dialectic of Incinerate third record ''Eradicating Terrestrial Species'', and the testy death metal listener will instantly realize that he/she has already run the gamut of the band's cadaverous gestalt of brutal/technical death metal, with almost zero new tricks to satisfy the culinary appetite which one may have hoped ravish. Playing like a manic, defunct tutorial for disfiguring ugly extra-terrestrials, this international cooperation leaves much to be desired, (Dave Rotten and Rogga Johansson created some of the most ill-bred sonic abuses of recent history with ''Macabre Kingdom'' in 2012, and we all know what a blast that was) but less to be acquired...

Comatose Music has had the honor of governing such depraved and bombastic retro-90's death metal acts like Incinerate, though the department's been generally running low on originality. Incinerate plucks at the strings of Hate Eternal, Cryptopsy, Suffocation, Florida obscures Brutality and Disincarnate and Immolation more than the cavern-core worship bands these days usually vie for, and even the production values have been altered somewhat to patch in with that gruesome production of the 90's. Before I gone on to scold how much this record lacks proper clinical galvanization, let me point out that the 90's mechanics are perfectly in place, and the riffs are densely punishing enough to come close to the aforementioned groups, with dredged up technical punishment and furious tremolos delivering most of the album's fundamental butchery, and treacly chugs gulping away at the listener's ear with systematic tension and ugliness.The drums contain enough fills and frenetic double-bass convolution to sound tantalizing, at least to an extent; add to that a metallic, grinding base line and everything seems in place to become the bonafide tech-death offering of the year, but the tracks are so interchangeable that it feels like musical equivalent of dull paint job.

I frankly enjoyed the overt presentation of gore, religion and science-fiction tropes, but aside from the few cheesy film sequences sandwiched in between or before some of the tunes, the concepts did nothing for the theatricality of the album. Incinerate is constantly technical, but they obdurately lack the quality to modify themselves throughout the record. Jesse Watson's vocals are the typical growls you were expecting, providing little anguish or trauma. They go excessively deep sometimes, and the cavernous lows mixed with the unsavory technicality generate something of a Demilich current, but once again, pleasure is stifled. Perhaps my favorite track here was ''The Berzerker'', which sounds characteristically similar to all the other tracks but has a intro featuring Shelley's poem ''Ozymandias'' as the only moment which was elevated to auditory limelight in the entire song. This is 30 minutes of unscathed brutality that feels long enough after the first spin. Evocative? I doubt it. Pure calculated ordure, and a fine piece to listen while you're raging over your maths project, I imagine. Yet this scarcely pushes the imaginative expanse of anyone's mind, and I certainly enjoyed some of the surgical guitar work and intensity, I won't hesitate to say Incinerate's got a better compendium of cult horror/sci-fi films than masterful riffs.

Highlights:
Fucking the Rotten Nun
The Bezerker
From Distant Worlds

Rating: 50%

Délétère - Les Heures de la Peste [2015]

Canada is in no shortage of bile-spewing, frigid, grisly French black metal, and Deletere is yet another one of Quebec's presents to the global scene via Montreal's very own black metal entrapment camp, Sepulchral Productions. The label has consistently delivered some of the most minimalist yet enjoyable black metal records of the past 2-3 years, ranging from the folksy atmospherics of Gris, the frostbitten winter tapestry of Neige Eternelle or the harrowing tides of despair which Sombres Forets emulate; and all these bands produced rather excellent works which appealed to the reductionist quotient of second wave traditionalism, making them one of the main reasons I continue to listen to contemporary black metal. Quebec itself has engendered so many of these primal practitioners of rabid evil that it's almost as through it broke out of Canada to be united with its linguistic homeland far across the Atlantic. Deletere's work on ''Les Heures de la Peste'' (that's ''the hours the plague'' for you, though my French is shaky) is not a far cry from any of the aforementioned bands as it does not try to expand upon its genre parameters as such revolutionary acts like Peste Noire or Blut Aus Nord, but carves a simpler wall of grief, mourning and iciness.

The names of the tracks correspond to various depictions of the plague, and with song titles like ''Une Gartre Venale'' (A Venal Bitch) I'm bound to compensate a few points for the duo's fresh (relatively) take on themes. The frills aside, though, this is a truly uncompromising experience of gritty, grimy guitars, cramped production values and the kind of nocturnal synergy we all look forward to in our Quebecois/French black metal, though there isn't a huge amount of eccentricities here (Darkthrone-worshiping has long lost its hipness) like the kind of folk-induced mysticism of Gris or vibrant acoustic interludes of Sombres Forets, in fact I've found this record to be mostly a stripped down version of what bands like Austere or Drudkh would have produced. Of course the band does move beyond the simplistic barrage of redundant tremolos: it's abound with dissonant torturous notes, like blood running down the walls of an ancient forest cavern under a moonlit sky... not only that but the duo occasionally employs medieval choral chants here and there to espouse the thematic ghastliness of death and disease. The vocals are harrowing, as one may imagine; though they reverberate with satisfactory howling, they're nothing out of the ordinary, I can tell you that. 

Unfortunately the dynamic range of this album is about as comprehensive as its armory of riffs and progressions, which is pretty meager in supply. There are genuinely haunting moments on the album - songs like ''Vepres - '' justify this with shifting tempos and riveting discordance - but this is not exactly on par with Monarque, Gris, or some of the other Quebecois outfits, nor is it as cold as the eponymous Neige Eternelle disc. There was an almost oddly psychedelic take on the songs at times, but they never lasted long enough to establish a proper basis of miasma or spiritual oblivion - Deletere misses out on both the din of winter frost which I would naturally expect from a band of their image to grasp, and on the more heavily bolstered brand of black metal which would have been a fair flee from the woods for the duo, at any rate. It's stuck somewhere in between, and though it has its moments, it didn't encapsulate me the way I'd want a musical grimoire to. So you get the idea. It's still some drowning, pestilential music, if you're into that stuff at all. Fostered by the Bubonic Plague. Can you imagine people's reactions to this if it was released in the middle ages? They'd be receiving all kinds of piss... literally. But enough of that: if you're enamored by any of the classic Scandinavian nasties, this one's for you, a gush of woeful malady, and don't sat I didn't warn you.

Highlights:

Vepres - Architects de la Pes

Laudes - Credo II

None - Le Lait de l'essaim

Rating: 70%

Iron Dogs - Free and Wild [2013]

It's always comic to see a band wielding such a cheesy, over-the-top cover art somehow cultivate a far more unique and engrossing sound than a good many of its peers who invest such money and effort into their album covers. Good covers do no necessitate good music; I think we all know that by now. Here's the second moral of the day: never judge a book by its cover. Indeed, a sword-wielding angry wench surrounded by a bunch of heads piled up on wooden stakes does precipitate the most worldly and intriguing of musical machinations, but however much this may be frowned upon, there's no denying that neglecting Iron Dogs' sophomore ''Free and Wild'' is a big mistake. With a wise selection of precursory influences that extend further than simply Maiden and Priest, but with a celerity and liveliness that would make the two gods proud, a pop/rock-variety brevity in the songs, and more melodies stuffed in a mere 28 minutes that so-called ''melodic'' metal bands would dare imbue into their song patterns, ''Free and Wild'' screams out with nostalgic, unabashed bliss.

''Free and Wild'' is such a load of tremendous fun and 80's awesomeness that I can't really state its selling point. Everything shines through. In case you still couldn't get a picture of what the Canadians have in store for you, I'll be as lucid as possible. The album draws strength from a number of concurrent influences freely flaunting with each other; the occasional Maiden, Priest, but there's still more Jag Panzer (think ''Ample Destruction'') than, I daresay, any other retro heavy metal to ever strap on a guitar and mount a drum stool, and I haven't even begun to mention the minuter spectrum of sounds converging in the mix, notably Angel Witch, Exciter, Agent Steel, ''Kill 'em All'' era 'tallica - even tits and bits of Razor flirting with the more rapacious outbursts of tempered energy. Yet in all the colorful palette of influences, creating a true melting pot of traditional heavy metal, (if not an apotheosis of the genre's manifestation) the Canadians somehow dazzle the listener with style of their own. The same way the English Deceptor challenged me to my wits' end with the sheer insurmountable quality of their EP ''Chains of Delusion'', Iron Dogs manage sound as cool as bands did in the past, without being tied down by the past.

Swirling, spiraling flirts of harmonious melodies are reminiscent of Satan's outstanding ''Life Sentence'', but different still. Irreprissible and meretricious, ''Free and Wild'' in the kind of album that refuses to be bound to the ground with chains, and attracts attention with its sheer punch and crudity. The manic, melodious guitar riffs aside, though, vocalist Jo Capitalicide can just as well be the BEST thing this record has to offer. As much as I am a great big guitar nerd myself, a staunch boaster of technicality and blazing guitar solos, Jo's vocals enamored me so much that I could listen to the first 3 seconds of the ending track ''Island of the Dead'' over an over again just to immerse myself in his outstanding voice. No need to elaborate - the man in the resurrection of Harry Conklin of Jag Panzer. Doused in reverb and heedless of ''professional'' vocal values, his inflection kicks nigh-over as many asses as the plodding guitars. Who said heavy/power metal had to be done with a banshee, screaming at the top of his lungs? Jo fits the bill for ''Free and Wild'' more perfectly than I might have conceived, and literally catapults Iron Dogs to the next level of musical excellence.

Any gripes? Only that the record was too fucking short! Given that the whole record clocks at 28 minutes, it's a bit difficult to excavate a huge deal of pleasure with just one spin. ''Free and Wild'' requires more frequent spinning than a dozen or so efforts by the generic retrogressors of the field. For fucks sake, if you can't derive any fun from the maniacal chords and melodies fluttering around the record, nor Jo's vocal delivery, you need to see a doctor, asap. But Iron Dogs are still willing to forgive that. Just open the lyrics to the title track and sing them out; the anthem is so utterly uplifting that it motions involuntary nods even as I'm writing this. Indoor! No more! And for the love of God, if you're still not properly enthralled, you need a serious fix. Sure,''Free and Wild'' may not be the masterpiece of the decade, but its sheer distinction serves as a viable consolidation for the fact, for which I couldn't care less. Enter, but beware of the nude guardian lying in wait. Posers need not apply.

Highlights:
Firebird
Free and Wild
Adversity
Island of the Dead

Rating: 92%

Thantifaxath - Sacred White Noise [2014]

Although it's become a serious difficulty to find an apple that's not ridden with worms nowadays, it is more importantly increasingly difficult for artists to discern themselves in the metal universe. That one third, however, seems to be the front-runners of the genre, the ones carrying the torch in the darkness, and the mavericks of black metal, who, usually, despite their outstanding achievements, fail to make into major markets, constantly bested by the more fashionable and over-hyped kings of the scene. Unfortunately, the question of why we humans neglect and demean the small is a discussion for another day. The real story here is Thantifaxath. A bunch of hooded figures hailing all the way from Canada, nothing out of the regular, you'd imagine. And coincidentally, just as I was perceiving a subtle divergence in Dark Descent Records from its usual old school death metal catalog, to my delight, I found they were also bolstering these guys with their debut album - probably the most enigmatically apocalyptic concept album (if you can call it that) I've heard all year. It's noise. It's sacred. And it's white. What more can a man want? Three of some of the most favorable things in the world in one wholesome package.

That aside though, ''Sacred White Noise'' pushes itself all the way from the boundaries of mediocrity to a self-sustained crevice of its own, buried under its own unique bliss. Being from Canada, you'd expect the trio to put out a performance fit for their Quebecois counterparts, and while it's not a whole different plot from what Gris and Monarque is doing, undeniably there is a great deal of difference. Where to start? From the fantastic opener ''the Bright White Nothing at the End of the Tunnel'' with its pallid aftermath allusion, to the impossible denouement ''Lost in Static Between Worlds'', the album is such a convincing and attractive force over the fatigue of traditional black metal bands that I found it to be one the most addictive black metal opiates I've hard since 2012. What seems to be a reasonable continuation of what Deathspell Omega and Negative Plane are doing is actually so much more; a brilliant and discordant witchery of crystalline chords and restless, relentless voracity. That's probably enough to summarize any black metal outfit in the field, but Thantifaxath takes its further. The progressive elements on this record are nothing short of stifling and formidable. I could have just said that the Canadians were giving test runs on a few of the Enslaved songs from their last three records, or just fleshing out the psychedelia of Hail Spirit Noir - but no. Imagine precise technical riffing plotted out perfectly along the bantering chords, a nightmarish descent into hemlock and the long-waited afterlife...

Yet the record initial tracks are so dense with ideas that you'd be less confused and frightened at gazing into pit of spidery demons. That's not to say the latter tracks lose their lust, but after the ideas have been presented the Canadians simply outline them once again for the obfuscated listener which helps convert utter bewilderment into comprehension and appreciation. ''Sacred White Noise'' is as moody and depressive as the downtrodden child on album cover, but I would fail to do them justice by leaving it there. Here, depression turns into anger, anger into momentum, and momentum into actual quality. On top of it all, there's this almost unprecedented sense of modernity that lurks deep in the ambient cinematic effects that encircle the record at random intervals. We're not talking 80's horror flicks here, folks, but some of the most creeping, crepuscular cinematic soundtracks I've heard since Cultes Des Ghoules released its magnum opus last year, and though this album doesn't score the same level of fright as the former, with fiendish musical acumen it's the prized set of songs that would resonate through an old abandoned church. And with the intro of ''Gasping in Darkness'' it manages to do just that. In a manner, there's certainly an approval of Negative Plane's aesthetics, with seamless, oriental harmonies strewn arbitrarily, but, as said, Thantifaxath hardly fails to be an album of its own.

 Despite the clarity of the guitars and the harsh, punkish guttural lows of the vocals, ''Sacred White Noise'' is still a hard pill to swallow. It's rich, with a myriad mortal wounds engraved on it like permanent tattoos, like ash and dust on a broken piano. To be fair, I'm a bit of a hypocrite at not giving this album a go in the first place. Only after a few positive reviews on the internet did I feel actually elevated about it finding its way to my pool of promos. And even so, it didn't quite kick the first time. The second spin gave me somewhat more pleasure and understanding, compared to the mild appreciation of the first, but after the third listen the album's cavernous soundscape and dissonance had me captivated like a bug in a jar. It's absolutely terrific musical experience, your free ticket to a live orchestral cacophony, delivered by the three hooded impresarios. Though not quite the record that would be bequeathed to later generations, if you know a band can conjure anything as haunting as ''Eternally Falling'', you know you ought to get it, regardless of your futile taste.

Highlights:
The Bright White Nothing at the End of the Tunnel 
Gasping In Darkness
Eternally Falling
Lost in Static Between Worlds

Rating: 90%

Gris - À l'âme Enflammée, l'äme Constellée... [2013]

Though the notion of lengthy musical journeys has often had a magical kind of appeal to me, so few bands actually possess the ability and flair to mete out the level of color, intrigue and hooks required to keep the listener at the edge of his/her seat throughout the in time the prospect has dissolved into a weary, fruitless idea. The problem is that despite so many bands plunging into the same otherwordly sounds and emotional undercurrents, very, very few can produce a layer of musicality that not just worthwhile but also memorable enough to firmly seat itself in the listener's subconscious. Granted that, there's extensive scope of sounds one can choose from; whether it be a soundscape of daemonic sufferance, swelling bucolic beauty dawning upon a rustic, natural expanse, or, as the Canadian label Sepulchral Productions has grown so fond of, ebbing and flooding tides of anger, repentance and gnawing sorrow conveyed in various ways... The Quebecois have now a wide belt of offerings in which they can present this particular form of music, with some of my favorites over the years being Neige Eternelle and Sombres Forets, but their countrymen Gris, with the follow-up to the highly acclaimed ''Il Etait Un Foret...'' has won me over almost effortlessly compared to its counterparts.

To be sure, Sombres Forets' last two albums were erudite and brilliant showings of what Quebecois black metal can take the form of when confined to an icy, uninhabited landscape, with orchestral and acoustic motives almost as overwhelmingly terrific as the guitars, but Gris beats them all... It's rather ironic how among all the label's releases I spun the Gris record last - and I'm aware of the grave mistake. The album is a megalith in its own right, split into two individual 40-minute CDs with 5 tracks each, but there's so much to feed from and harness into one's own emotions that I find it difficult to put it in the same context as the other bands with their purportedly ''megalithic'' albums. With the axiom of atmospheric black metal and acoustic sentimentality firmly established and accepted, Gris wastes no time in applying its non-metal influences into a peripheral metal record. The dust-caked paean in its ceremonial stance may serve as some indicator on what the record has in store, but even the beauty of the statue is merely a fragment of the bliss that awaits in the arms of the record's woe-torn arms...

The music, bound to evoke a feeling of reveries and haunting illusions in the listener, naturally retains a suitable length, but acoustic and ambient interludes protrude from every square corner of the album; and we're not just talking simple acoustic interludes and cheesy outros/intros. The guitars start creeping up with elegiac beauty, subtly accompanied by orchestral sounds and even female vocal samples occasionally popping up; but the really plangent sound is derived from a series of screaming, folksy violins snapping loose at arbitrary points. Imagine the crepuscular charm and coaxing effect of those marvelous violins! Embittered little children wailing over their lost mother. A group mournful angels with their teardrops slowly falling on mankind. And Gris, unlike so many other bands which try to incorporate similar styles, does not tussle and overdo the musicality of the violins and acoustic guitars. Everything is nearly immaculately balanced, coordinated, yet plangent and natural. With the opener ''L'aube'' already delving into cavern of stars and sorrow in a brief of 4 minutes without the real bulk of the album even giving a hint of its existence, ''À l'âme Enflammée...'' already makes the statement that it's here to linger.

And once the phenomenal ''Les Forges'' ends, the listener is sufficiently enthralled and addicted to eagerly make the remainder of the album. It's true that the tracks that make up the bulk of the record, being lengthy, invest more or less the same patterns of chord progressions and swells, but this hardly seems to matter with the orchestral work looming over the guitar riffs. And, in addition, the riffs are still diverse enough to bloom into any one of traditional post-rock riffing, progressive black metal, or just crude, dauntless raw black metal, taking any form of the genre as long as it hovers in the realms of sheer, unrelenting pain and emotion. What I love about the guitars it that they seem to avoid both the primordial posture that retrogression has so unabashedly promulgated, and the metallic sound that many modern black metal acts give in to. You can hear the distortion well enough, but it doesn't meander or buzz around as if melting away as the carnal, guttural barks of the vocalist sear through. Speaking of which, the vocalist is just as terrific as any other component of the album. His raw howls are not just wretched, but charged with the same emotional exactitude as the guitars and the unnervingly surreal violins... and they even rarely seep into the acoustic interludes. The idyllic, yet grief-stricken approach of the album is not a hard pill to swallow if you're used to acts like Forteresse, Monarque or Austere, but I'm nonetheless enamored by the poetic grace of the lyrics which befit the music, even if my French is a bit shaky:

Nous venons d'avant
Les mondes effondrées
À jamais vivants
Des rythmes d'avenir.
Le fruit de toutes les ténèbres,
Dans nos yeux, a inventé
Un jardin de diamants.

" Ô Petite Humanité,
Qui crève dans l'aube des jours,
Tombées, comme une flamme silencieuse,
As-tu dévoré tes rêves ? "

So, to return to my chastisement of bands who use music as a journey with their bombastic, hour-long single-track albums I stated in the opening paragraph, Gris is indeed one of the few who can achieve structural cohesion and captivation at the same time. The first part isn't hard to do. I'm sure anyone out there can stack four 15-minute monoliths into a CD with ambient effects of acoustic compositions jutting out in between, but, again, few can make the journey worth taking. The endless praise over Agalloch, the inexplicable adoration for funeral doom with its bantering pointlessness - it all seems so dull that Gris' achievement with this album would be some consolation for what the aforementioned failed to achieve... It's not perfect, sure, but I'd rather let my body be swept away by the doomed beauty of this record than any funeral doom band any day. Not just that, but the record's conceptual approach is a viable alternative to the rural appreciation of its countrymen. A Quebecois masterpiece for the decade to approve and bath in. Go ahead, cleanse your sins.


Highlights:
Les Forges
Igneus
Seizieme Priere
Une Epitaphe de Suie

Rating: 90%

Sombres Forets - Royaume de Glace [2008]

In this seemingly overwhelming rush for bedroom black metal sounds, one would require a certain degree of patience and perseverance both to locate and thoroughly enjoy an act such as Quebec's Sombres Forets - better known as the one man army Annatar. An almost inexplicable upsurge in the promulgation of such drugged, depressive, yet at the same time oddly serene sounds, it grieves me somewhat to identify the Quebecois as a rather genre-standard act, but one that still achieved considerable success through a unison with the local Sepulchral Records, combined with an unrelenting spiritual fervor. Granted, Sombres Forets represents a new wave of black metal that is less inclined to burn churches down and jab wooden crosses up people's arses; something more monumental and desolate, the influence of rural, rustic, and sometimes (as is the case on this album) hibernal landscapes being felt profoundly, and simultaneously drowsier. With all the thematic and atmospheric compartments at the ready, all Annatar needs to do is to fill in the blank spots, those glacial pavements in the midst of despondent pines and firs...

And Annatar can provide these - of that there is little doubt. The Quebecois is more than proficient in impregnating the listener with cascading waves of emotion and melancholy, and can keep a fluent pace and relative consistency at a startlingly successful degree. ''Royaume de Glace'' is raw, but serene at the same time, which means there's little space presented outside of the almost vituperative tides of catharsis. This can create a problem for the more eclectic black metal listener. Sombres Forets is somewhat closely associated with traditional Scandinavian sounds, and the sound is much more distant than those of the savager, feral acts that occupy roughly half of the current black metal market. Like its successor, the album is fond of brusque acoustic entries cutting into the riffs like bridges, but I felt that the acoustic love was not fully developed on ''Royaume...'', so I found the follow-up, ''La Mort Du Soleil'' to occupy a much more sizable portion of its bulk with long soliloquy-like acoustic interludes, which, admittedly felt a little too self-indulgent and meandering after some point. One of this album's strengths is that the its store for strident currents of raw guitar riffing is more capacious; and Annatar wastes no time in adorning the walls of post rock chords and distortion with hoovering synthesizers, among other, less frequently implemented sounds.

The songs are swelling in their individual proportion, and the fact that the range of riffs Annatar composes its fairly limited proves to be a hindrance as the listener is dragged further into the album's sorrowful compendium. It's not that I don't like them - the riffs simply don't have much value when separated. No uncommon problem in the black metal medium, so I wasn't overly disappointed by the lack of spikes, even though there were certainly a handful of glossy moments of atmospheric excellence that I've surely suffused with the best of praises. So much of Annatar's tendency to persistently keep true to a certain, unwavering path makes this a ''suicidal'' black metal album. It's almost like a more accessible rendering of the first Leviathan or Xasthur records; much more permeable, less venturous to head towards the dark and grim corners, and more fervent to explore the ethereal, emotionally appealing corners of the genre. As said before, for those who can't bear such a staggering flood of woe and regret, ''Royaume...'' is simply boring, stagnant and pointless. It's poignancy is borne of its unyielding melancholy, which makes hard to get into, though accessible to some extent.

The drums are surprisingly crisp here, which should definitely be pinpointed as a major strength. Consider the drumming values of all those raw black metal bands, all the ''bedroom'' acts. Hell, forget the new; even Emperor and Immortal had egregious drum values, even if it was during the 90's. Annatar's drums kick ass. They're pungent, textured, with cymbals crashing into the plaintive stream of chords like ebbing waves licking the edges of a scalloped cliff. Annatar is, of course, very accomplished as a vocalist as well; and scarcely flounders in tonal consistency. Much like his countrymen and other French bands dominant in the current scene, Annatar leaves a mournful and well-nigh artistic impression in listeners. I love the fact that there are more than a handful of musicians in the much-beleaguered genre of black metal that take their work as an art, an exceedingly grim one, but nonetheless still an art. Annatar is unquestionably one of the leaders of the pack, along with Blut Aus Nord, Gris, Forteresse, Monarque and a few others, embracing the concept of mourn through atmospheric applications to the utmost extent. Maybe to some this may represent discomfort, but that just shows how successful the Quebecois is. ''Royaume de Glace'' might not technically shine out, but its multi-layered texture of emotion makes it one monolith of a release. I would definitely have preferred some more variation, which would damnably be present in the next album, and the kind of creativity that I found so delectably in ''La Nuit'' to pervade the entire album, and, again, some of that would be on the successor's palette, only to be marred by a different kind of problem...

Highlights:
La Nuit
Royaume de Glace
L'Oeil Nocturne


Rating: 82,5%

Burialkult - A Call From Beyond the Grave [2013]

One of the major factors in inspiring Burialkult's musical inclination might be the sudden emergence of their salient fellow countrymen Antediluvian or Adversarial who channel the squamous and impious depths of black and death metal in the utmost nostalgic manner, though that's not the infer that Burialkult are strictly a byproduct of the aforementioned bands' success; on the contrary, their sound is quite different, despite originating from the same family tree, because if you could take Antediluvian as soupy bowl of grime and subterranean tastes than Burialkult would be the equivalent of an incendiary chili being served with raw beetroot and flesh. Burialkult is a fresh signing of the prolific label Blood Harvest which generally harbors interest for old school death metal bands, and thus surprised me with this out-of-league release. Needless to say, it doesn't matter one bit. The only thing that truly matters here is how fucking bloodied and raw these angry Canadians are, completely drooling over the cadaverous finesse of first wave black metal a la Bathory, Celtic Frost and Venom, with a healthy dose of material that would likely be extracted from some of the genre's late-coming pundits who wished to expand not upon the majesty of the music but rather upon its raw and destructive components.

Don't get confused, though; Burialkult are not even remotely enlarging black metal's characteristics, but are forming a belligerent, devilish set of artillery pieces from which to bombard the unaccustomed listener. Even for people who'd consider themselves ''veterans'' of the sound, Burialkult is absurdly primal and carnal, but thanks to modern production values, its seemingly degraded quality is bantered with punch and juice, which is the case with most bands in this field these days, but thankfully Burialkult doesn't smother us continually with broad, perforating riffing and keep things slightly interested by randomly shifting the sound quality. I was quite flummoxed to to hear the level of variation and hostility that drum patterns offered, because the fills are especially great when they're sewn onto lengthier chord progressions, and aside from occasional, frivolous fills, you'll have a verbose platter of pummeling blast beats. The palette of riffing offered is nothing spectacular as you may have guessed, but Burialkult does have two rather distinct weapons of choice: A more crowded set of second wave black metal tremolos that erupt with raw precision, and more accessible, groove-laden speed/heavy motifs that sound like Lemmy and his gang bursting through filthy streets with hellish motorbikes. I did also sense a subtle craving for thrash even though it was much scarcer than some other influences, but it helped spike up a few less motivated sequences.

There is variation to a certain degree, but don't expect this to be a record laced and embellished with veneers and intriguing crevices that keep popping up. Thankfully, Burialkult make up for some of their deficiencies in the riff department in the ambiance department. To be sure, the Canadians are adamant on keeping the eerie mingle of menace and craze at a discomfiting and dissonant level, and there isn't a single track that's not pervaded by this atmospheric formula, and moreover, they have some pretty decent ambient pieces like the lurching, ominous organ soundtrack ''Hossana In The Depths'' or the less effective ''Provocations'', and while I wasn't completely sold on the wicked atmosphere they conjured, I still had a kick out of it. The vocals are rabid and utterly caustic, inclined towards both the guttural and raspy facets of traditional black metal vocals. I'm sure that Burialkult are conscious of unoriginal qualities of their music, but the emergent focus here is the sheer bruising power this record has, because listening to this is like caulking your headphones with thorns and then proceeding to insert it into your hear. There are some ''bedroom'' black metal bands who can surpass this in terms of raw emotion and decrepit production values, but if anyone wishes to crack open a hear and go motorbiking around the city dump, ''A Call From Beyond the Grave'' is the rule to go by.

Highlights:
Desecrate The Temple
By Satan Possessed
Throne of Disease

Rating: 75%

Neige Eternelle - Neige Eternelle [2013]

For many, parting from a decidedly modern sounding aesthetic of black metal, especially if you’re an aficionado of fresh purveyors of grimness, is an unmistakably difficult notion, though some will obviously be more induced by old school characteristics rather than the voluptuous, youthful material that they seem to be fed up with. My point is that every now and then we need to delve into our wretched, raw past, not necessarily by traditional means but usually through the musical skills of newer acts, so that we may have a larger scope of the scene around us. However, bear in mind that this little rule has been applied to the black metal tag for demonstrative purposes and not anything else (Like death metal; we already have more bands than we can handle in that area). The subjects here are the recent Quebecois frantic Neige Eternelle, yet another desolate, somnolent cascade of mourn doused in French titles coming from the Montreal black metal imprint Sepulchral Productions; a group of murderously cunning entrepreneurs who caught my attention with a flurry of excellent releases as effortlessly and slicing molten butter.

The Canadians aren’t brand-new, but they’re still pretty young, having formed in 2008 and having solely one demo and a live album at their belt. However, their self-titled debut album is perhaps the most unmitigated, spectrally abusive records I’ve heard in a long time, tracing its original aspects to the early efforts of the second wave of Norwegian black metal, imbued with a carnal, frosting ferocity that could be related to the savage, sluggish antics of early proto-black metal acts or seminal black/thrash works from the late 80s. If I had to give rough description of their swollen, frigid complex of riffs and atmospheric tenets, I’d say it’s a cross between some early Burzum recordings, Darkthrone circa 1992-1994, Ragnarok’s ‘’Arising Realm’’ and Ulver’s ‘’Nattens Madrigal…’’, with a frenzied splash of early Sodom thrown in for a good measure. Of course, with its influences so blatantly rooted to the early and much-lauded examples of black metal, you’d hardly expects ‘’Neige Eternelle’’ to be the eccentric, majestic beast of modernity, but with a terrific sense of agonized, demented riffing and dilapidated production values supporting the stark contrast between real life and the gelid, cavernous imagery created by the aural textures of this album, you could do no wrong entering to this haunted cavern, the antithesis of a warm and inviting amenity.

The riffs are utterly unremitting and compellingly fierce, roiling amongst a wall of charnel noise. Pick any track from the presented 8, and I guarantee you’ll be experiencing the final glimpses of light of a man trapped in some primordial den that’s about to collapse from the pressure of multiple ice stalagmites, some unmentioned burrow from the Mountains of Madness. Despite the minuteness of the influence spectrum, the riffs are abrasive and they don’t give a fuck about what you think; bouncing off a hidden mountain burial ground and striking you with voracious, static tenacity. Give the patterns that are constantly followed and simplistic chord progressions, there isn’t even much innovation in the riffing, yet, as stated, the pouring lament and mourn make you forget the sheer lack of sophistication nearly the entire time. The howling, raucous vocals are great in the least, and sometimes morph into these horrific wolf howls which echo alongside the misfortunate guidance of the somber wind.

Perhaps individually there’s not much to scrutinize, but introspecting the entire 43 minute span of this record is a truly rewarding experience. There were some minor hindrances that escaped even the densest gatherings of anguish, and admittedly this is not the best black metal I’ve heard this year, but Neige Eternelle (which, by the way, translates into eternal snow, a very fitting moniker) is driven with a pure and ferocious candor that has been solidly executed. The prolonged stinging of the vocals kept me constantly stimulated and irritated (in a good way), and the riffs themselves are hypnotically cold enough to bury me in a six feet deep grave of snow. Through its successes and minor miscalculations, ‘’Neige Eternelle’’ is a goodly pick for Sepulchral Productions and a record worthy of any old school black metal enthusiast’s attention and unflinching fervor. I'm sure nobody was expecting this to be some soothing jazz medley, judging by the album art and album title, but still, when you enter, there’s no way of attaining salvation. Hiding in the frost-peppered forest will only postpone your demise. Doleful, winter-beaten revulsion. 

Highlights:

Cri de Guerre

L'appel de la Mort

Pluie de Coteaux

Rating: 86%

Sombre Forets - La Mort Du Soleil [2013]

As if my first impressions on the two new promos delivered by Montreal imprint Sepulchral Productions wasn't positive enough, the label has beset me a further addendum of bleak, desiccating black metal from the unexplored, and undeniably frosty dins of Quebec. The former releases I heard from the record label were both very strong releases; ''Lys Noir'', a tempestuous maelstrom of doleful pain, and the eponymous debut by Neige Eternelle, and even rawer contemplation of some of the grimmest of landscapes, however, the fresh material by Sombre Forets has distilled more than any of them. Sombre Forets, which translates into dark forests in French, explores the bleakest corners of mid 90's Norwegian black metal and the distressing frameworks of Leviathan and Xasthur, though I was shocked to hear that the man behind the entire, astonishing orchestration, Annatar, was able to insert a desolate, unforgiving and ultimately fresh sense of originality into the mixture, forming a disturbingly remote weaving of guitar riffs and other aural additions which render the album so frighteningly real. ''La Mort Du Soleil'' is a brilliant soundtrack for a solitary gaze into a frosty nightscape...

In truth, inconsistency is the key to ''La Mort Du Soleil''. Not having listened to the band's previous outings, I don't know whether this is a distinct style Annatar has constantly displayed throughout his backlog of works, but as far as this record is concerned, the structural preferences render it the one most queerly eccentric records in black metal. Surely, ambient passages and their random distribution is nothing of a novelty; in fact, it's been done for as long as black metal can remember (excluding early proto-black metal), but the actual guitar work is jointed flawlessly, and often incoherently with the soundscapes, piano passages, and ambient sounds, eventually weaving a world of sorrow and emotional catharsis which I am, even after countless spins, uncertain of. The listener is swallowed up into the somber entity, which is depicted in the mesmerizing cover art that I can only relate to Necrovation's self titled sophomore in its ways of showcasing the gushing, ebbing motions of the wallowing tides, rocking dolefully amid a momentous storm, but ''the destruction of the sun'' is so utterly convincing in its thematic display that even the vague glow of the sun among the swirling ocean tides is simply too bright.

Yet, in spite of all the haunting beauty, there lies a problem. There is always a problem. The harsh truth is that ''La Mort...'' is too inconsistent to be fully effective. The riffs are great when they are unleashed upon the listener; mirages of harrowing, discomforting chord sequences and intense, moody tremolo barrages, and constructed with complete avidity and savvy, and I'm not even excluding the less transparent open chord progressions that seem to sway along with the many grievous facets of the ambient passages, but such moments of intensity and action are, unfortunately less frequently exhibited than the ambient sequences themselves. This leaves a huge, tiring gap in the very middle of the album. The terrific winter-assaults of ''Brumes'' and ''La Disparition'' kept me wanting for more, substantial material that I could actually grasp, but so many of the other tracks disappointed me with their lack of mobility and adherence that I felt as though I was drowning in a forgotten void of snow, a multitude of ice shards craving holes in my torso simultaneously.

In all, listening to this record was a bitch for me. For the most part, it was like a game of Scrabble. I rarely had the letters I could utilize to form a proper word offensive to throw my opponent off guard, but when I was lacking in useful letters, the entire articulate quality of my game felt like it was destroyed, and I continually kept reaching for the letter-pouch, hoping to acquire a letter that would somehow be useful. The guitars were simply perfect, as I described them above, and the eerie, echoing vocals of Annatar is a bleak howling of wind that pervades the entire storm-ridden ocean portrayed in the cover art. The overall instrumentation is incredibly thick and suffocating, with not a moment where the dying sun showed me a last glimmering spark. Not a single moment. I always kept my fingers crossed for something big, something that would make the entire album the near-flawless masterpiece I expected it would turn out to be, but to no avail. However, all is not in vain, folks. Connoisseurs of atmospheric black metal who are into deep, emotionally engaging moments of aural misery will adore this, and as for me, I certainly liked it, but I would have loved it to death if it weren't for those long, jaded periods of boredom.

Highlights:
Brumes
Etrangleurs de Soleils
La Disparition

Rating: 77,5%

Monarque - Lys Noir [2013]

Arguably the best part pf receiving random promos is unearthing a new find that can be held a higher level then the rest of its mediocre counterparts. I had, having little idea of the band's formative aspects or background, initially perceived Monarque's ''Lys Noir'' to be just another ambitious daisy in the garden, sprouting out of the dirt eagerly, and awaiting attention. Only later could I comprehend the fact that I had made a terrible mistake, tossing away the Canadian duo's sorrowful third full-length. Monarque's roots are deeply buried in Quebec, which explains their fervor for French titles. For those both accustomed and unaccustomed to the Canadian's sound, ''Lys Noir'' is cascading waterfall of undoubtedly bleak, razor-sharp riffs, and atmosphere that engulfs the entire riffing station like a heavy, smoldering cloth, and it's simply one of those releases which hardly reinvents the wheel, but proceeds to render it more flashy through a strong and keen sense of musicianship and judicious experimenting in familiar territory.

As I explained, ''Lys Noir'' merely stretches the innumerably skewed aesthetics of black metal, but delves into combinations that are perceptible mostly as antique, but are somehow still doused with a somewhat pungent touch of originality. I'd say Monarque's musical roots are a cross between numerous inclinations of the Scandinavian black metal scene which exploded in the mid-early 90's. Monarque is crude to an extent, and the ambiance of the entire record is an entrancing spectacle of mourn, which means most of their atmospheric tenets were snatched from the likes of Darkthrone (the first three records), Carpathian Forest, or perhaps the Greek black metal masterminds Spectral Lore, but at the same time, the duo is modest, and the riffs are filtered with incorrigible tenacity, relating strongly to more flexible acts such as Arckanum, Forteresse, Emperor or Ragnarok, bearing the posture of a voracious wolf crawling amid the snow, diligently pursuing its prey.

I absolutely love the mournful indulgence the record sometimes dives into, showering the wary listener with a further incursions of deep sorrow and hypnosis. ''Comme Des Vers'' and ''Mes Condoleances'' perfectly exhibit this, quaking the rest of the record with such magnetic, titular strength that I was left utterly destroyed. The rest of the band's arsenal disposal is rather a savage bigotry rather than an empowering eclipse of mourn. ''Vigor Mortis'', ''L'appel de la Nuit'' and ''Comme Des Vers'' are all laden with such wild riff arrangements, piercing and utterly frigid, something like the latest Thy Darkened Shade disc, but devoid of any nihilistic qualities that would have otherwise turned them into crazed war metal act charging at full force. As I said above, ''Lys Noir'' does not really have a brilliant intake of intricacies, but there are subtle joints that pop up here and there, though the most resplendent atmospheric attraction for me was the rather infrequent usage of the synthesizers, doleful tempests of sound that beautifully bind with the raucous riff-work above, forming the ultimate companion for a desolate mountain hike in the Andes.

The texture of the drums have been adjusted quite well, sounding resonate enough to have an effect but as to not disturb the overall coherence of the record. Monarque (the guy handling the guitars, bass and vocals) has a nice, vivid rasp which echos as efficiently as any other vocalist in this field of black metal, with little diversity but much harrowing quality. Individually, the only track that was the most distinguished was ''Solitude'', a near 3 minute ambient passage with soothing acoustic guitar medleys and classical grandeur, and it my humble opinion that Monarque's biggest loss here was the lack of proper distinction. Certainly not a major gripe considering the entirety of the album, but I thought I could have further satisfied is a feeling of quandry was evoked with only putting a tad more thought into the compositions. Nonetheless, the Quebecois have performed very solidly here, making them one of the more admirable black metal bands to emerge in the last decade.

Highlights:
Mes Condeleances
Vigor Mortis
L'Appel de la Nuit

Rating: 84%

Dire Omen - Severing Soul From Flesh [2012]

Canada's repugnant, esoteric atmospheric blackened death metal worship has reached such prodigious heights in quantity that acts gradually diversifying their range of atonal OSDM bowel deconstruction and are conveying somewhat simpler ideas instead of directly corresponding to their ritualistic countrymen Antediluvian and Mitochondrion. One of my most recent excavations in this rotten pile of archaic disturbance is Dire Omen, which, compared to the aforementioned behemoths, have slightly nuanced taste in displaying their corpulent hybrid of black and death metal. I'm assuming your protesting to this nebulous tenor; ''What, another Canadian death metal band?'', and I will be replying with the inevitable answer; ''Yes'', however, don't get your hopes down yet, because in all their simplicity, Dire Omen is not at all bad news.

Honestly, the EP is brief, to-the-point, and as you probably noticed, nothing new for the occasional OSDM freak, yet it does have some strong features that are instant hindrances that negate me from degrading the band's performance. Firstly, ''Severing Soul From Flesh'' lives up for its name in every way. The band's continual reservoir of bulky death metal chugs and chops have a nice earthen grasp to them that's reminiscent of early Pestilence and early Death, rather than more massive incursions because of the great, ghastly, fleshy tone the guitar acquires, and there's quite a bit of muscular dependency here; certainly more riffs are strewn on husky complexes than Antediluvian, or, say, Impetuous Ritual. The rippling clasp of the tone has a radiant effect on the overall patterns, and what's more is that the void-like atmospheric haziness that they've supposedly borrowed from their countrymen adorn the gruesome, lacerating ferocity of the guitars, driving the listener into a delicious, aurally enhanced death metal foray.

In such tracks as ''Decaying Moral Scripture'' or the title track, the band perfectly encrypts semi-atmospheric arpeggio sequences atop vivacious tremolo ruptures that reek of Deicide circa 1990-1992. You'll also get, throughout the brief experience, lugubrious, uncircumcised tremolo patterns which actually have sstrong overtone of nightmarish imagery printed on them. To top it all, ''Deserving Of Ash'' culminates the band's prior compositions by jutting into the airy visceral rampage with immensely atmospheric black metal convulsions, and even if for a split second, you get that eerie splash of epic beauty. My only complaint was that the EP sounded like the band hadn't firmly established a stable formula yet. There's definitely a sense of imperfection in the basis of the formula when you hear odd couplings of death and black, thus, the experience was crudely frightening, even if not as horrific as Antediluvian, the combined reiterated output is something to be feared - I'll definitely be looking forward to further bloodied ceremonies by this trio.

Highlights:
Dire Omen
Severing Soul From Flesh
Deserving Of Ash

Rating: 80%

Paroxsihzem - Paroxsihzem

As if Canada's bountiful burden of blackened death metal monoliths did not deliver sufficient clangor and cavernous colostomy with their two front running giants Mitochondrion and Antediluvian (not to mention bands with deeper roots like Revenge and Conqueror) was not enough, the nihilistic fog that emerges out of the country-sized tundra continues to epitomize the immensely atmospheric darkness of death metal and diminish whatever futile light remained to kindle the ambiguity by producing megalith after megalith, my latest encounter of this never ending fabrication being Paroxsihzem and their heavyweight bulk of occult blackened death metal. Now signed to Dark Descent Records, the perfect, impious place for them to harbor their bludgeoning strength, the group, like their fellow countrymen loves to produce hollow, reverb-bathed vortexes that flutter through the air we breathe like some suffocating tornado, and with the additional advantages they gain with the chaotic emphasis of murky death/doom immensity, they truly create a force that would puzzle any man in disgust and oblivion.

Comparisons have associated this with the almighty Australian Portal, probably due to the same chaotic textures used in engrossing the cavernous dissonance of the album, but in truth, I tend to find them much more on par with Antediluvian then Portal, because really, the band prefers to exclude technically driven riffs and more competent, convoluted elements, preferring to simply crush in huge resonant waves, and traumatizing death/doom progressions. Incantation would also probably come to mind whenever the brain-tangling mess rises to take a fresh breath of air and morph into much more straightforward lurches, usually thick tremolo passages lead by the commodious cave growls that no doubt reek of Craig Pillard to many. But even with death metal being the essential ingredient here, there is a noticeable black metal mark on certain sections that I cannot help but love. While brief intervals may have a stronger focus on black rather than death from time to time, ''Tsirhcitna'' has a completely overwhelming forlorn infrastructure purely built around the idea condemning the listener with both punishing and pungent atmospheric black metal tremolos and indulgent orgies of chaos that I can only relate, once again, to Antediluvian.

A quick listen may easily mislead a unconcerned listener. ''Paroxsihzem'' had a one-dimensional effect on me when I first have it a spin, but only on further contemplation did its cantankerous start to shine through the simplicity. A few listen to such subjugating experiments like the finalizing ''Aokigahara'' prove that the band still has still plenty of potential that they haven't poured into their cravings on this release, and considering the brilliance of their balance between surgical occult death metal assaults and cthtonic paeans they have a scrofulous formula formulated and their propensity for excelling at discomfiting psychological torment nearly as good as their countrymen and Portal does makes them a shining, or rather shadowing gem. And along with their label-mates Anhedonist, who were outstanding on their early-year debut, Paroxsihzem is easily Dark Descent's most potent weapons. Darkness will never be eschewed.

Highlights:
Nausea
Tsirhcitna
Aokigahara 

Rating: 86,5%

Cauldron - Tomorrow's Lost

A new traditional heavy metal resurgence is blooming and erupting voluptuously, and it's great. In a short deal of time, we got tons of fresh acts, mostly good and augmenting, and plague is on a wild surge. Sweden, Canada and the States are easily the flag-bearers in the rampage, each deliberately exposing bands in immense quality and quantity, and though Canada has been more notorious for its surgical bulk of blackened bombastic caveman and vociferous gurgle-deliverers, its still has a solid traditional heavy metal scene, and Cauldron has got to be one of the leaders of national pack of wolves. The band unleashed two consecutive full-length albums that embrace that same semi-melancholic, ball-out assault fashion of heavy metal, and on the third release, signing to modern heavy metal fodder Earache Records, they've once again succeeded in delivering the blatant and the vivacious; good news for the band's drooling fans.

Cauldron really doesn't dive much deep when it comes to penning the compositions. I mean, even though I quite enjoyed the album in general, there's always that brooding simplicity just sitting there, not sure if it should enter the derby or not, and that kind of lack of intricacy makes me feels uncertain at times, as if waiting for an explosion that's never gonna actually come. Otherwise, the whole album is in the works. They've practically mechanized their formula, projecting it the most robust way possible, and they've even started to snatch the sprinkles out from the old cookie box and start decorating the mixture. For people who are not acquainted with Cauldron's sound, let me explain briefly: the band stitches up numerous NWOBHM influences with a few segments of Mercyful Fate to boast the melancholia, and then some Maiden to keep things fresh and juicy. I actually kind of liked the limitations of extreme ecstatic energy, because the band has a ponderous base structure provided by a massive, bulbous hunk of a guitar tone, so the riffs almost sound oppressive, something like you average heavy/doom album...

There are, of course, given that the album has its fair share of dynamics, some faster hooks like ''Burning Fortune'' which shimmer with the dreary output of the chords and brisker take on the vocals. The solos are fairly impressive too; casual and crisp and they don't really break the law by exploding amid the tightly mashed doom-paced chords, more points for the band. John Decay has an interesting vocal touch, something that hovers around epic and doomy, resembling Helloween or even John Arch of Fates Warning at best. ''Tomorrow's Lost'', in total, may not be what the fans are quite expecting perhaps, thanks to the deep channeling of doom n' gloom, but with it's traditional cunning it certainly makes for a sweet treat - don't you skip this.

Highlights:
Tomorrow's Lost
Summoned To Succumb
Born To Struggle 
Burning Fortune

Rating: 85%

Striker - Armed To The Teeth

The amount of new bands who are channeling the Gods that bestowed heavy metal upon us don't seem to be stopping anytime soon, and I am absolutely fine with that. For every handful of newer acts that tread along the same mediocre path, there is another band taking the high road and releasing quality music. Bands like White Wizzard, Cauldron, In Solitude, Trial and Enforcer have all ushered in a new era of the '80s heavy metal sound with their brilliant releases, and now Striker is looking to join the upper ranks of today's scene after releasing their second full-length "Armed to the Teeth," ten songs full of soaring vocals, heavy riffs, stellar melodies and solos, and a large dose of fuck you, old-school rock n' roll attitude that has been missing from a lot of today's acts who focus on sounding occult or epic.

Much like most of today's newer traditional metal bands, the majority of riffs and other rhythm instruments just aren't too significant as far as the memorability of each track goes when standing on their own. Most of the riffs gravitate towards typical midpaced riffs and the occasional thrashy, speed metal type riff, but I don't recall many of the riffs themselves, but that's not really a problem given the rest of the band's efforts. Dan Cleary's vocals are one of the major highlights on this record, and a major reason why "Armed to the Teeth" possesses any sort of memorability. Not only are his vocals soothing and pleasant to listen to, but they mesh with the riffs and everything else effortlessly and they make the rest of the music better. Cleary's performance and delivery also allows for the music to resonate in the listener's skull, as he can wail away and hit high notes, sing beautifully with the melodies or put on a total rocker front which gives the music an awesome Scorpions or Judas Priest kind of feel, while Striker forges on with their own sound simultaneously.

Unlike a lot of the riffs, the melodies and solos found throughout this record are entirely amazing. "Fight For Your Life" and "Feed My Fire" both retain such a high amount of replay ability because the guitar duo's use of melodies serve as the ideal backdrop for Cleary's vocals to come in and ingrain the music in the listener's brain. "It Could Be Worse" is an infectious track that is sure to be a live favorite with its catchy rock n' roll influenced riffs and very air-guitar-worthy solos. After a few listens to "Armed to the Teeth" it's no surprise as to why Striker is gaining a lot of momentum in today's scene, as this album is exactly the kind of game-changer that can propel these Canadians to a higher level. If you're a fan of any of today's better newer traditional metal acts (Cauldron and White Wizzard in particular) then there should be zero hesitation in checking these guys out, and even if you don't, it still won't be enough to stop the rush...

Highlights:
"It Could Be Worse"
"Fight For Your Life"
"Feed My Fire"

Rating: 86%

Originally written for Skull Fracturing Metal Zine.

Antediluvian/Temple Nightside - Cogitating Vacuous

Antediluvian, though a relatively newly formed apparition are proving to be even more squamous and prolific than I would have imagined. Just a couple of months ago, they unleashed a introspective torrent of cavernous evil upon mankind alongside with fellow countrymen Adversarial, whom, also undeniably made Canada proud with their ultra-sophisticated brand of abysmal aberration and hellish brute force, and yet that ebbing, infinite tide of impiety does not seem to cease. Antediluvian's work on this two sided split is fairly short, but despite its brevity, I can't help but think the band's efforts nearly inordinate, as less than a year after the release of the darkened pillar of dissonance, ''Through The Cervix Of Hawaah'' they relinquish their ideas and already they have half the material to forge an album - one that I will most gladly embrace and worship.

On the other side of the split, we have an act that's even rawer than its split-mate, the Australian Temple Nightside. I can imagine that a number of people who heard about the blackened incandescence of ''Through The Cervix Of Hawaah'' are not quite well acquainted with Temple, which most probably because Profound Lore Records knew to grab the brighter bulbs in the batch (Mitochondrion, Antediluvian), but there's also a little gab caused by the band's overall discography. Temple released an excellent EP the previous year, though it was mostly shadowed by either more the more superior releases on its kind that exploded in the same time, or by the lack of advertisement, both of gaps which are about to be closed with this split. These primal black metal cavemen deliver crude and incessant torture, and while the total length of their sole track on this split is just a pinch longer than Antediluvian's material, it still manages to get the drool in your mouth dripping for another release.

Antediluvian are incredible as always, and flawless evil is an art that they've practiced and endeavored to achieve so many times that it literally comes spawning out from their veins in ghastly, diminishing rupture. The stance maintained on both the lauded full-length and the latter split with Adversarial was generally a trudging, indulgent one, mainly sticking to the monolithic aesthetics of doom to underpin the channeling, churning evil that was going on above, but on ''Cogitating Vacuous'', the Canadians embrace a less harrowing type of aggravating clawing torture, and produce relatively more dynamic excursions of festering, soupy tremolo density, the node wherein Incantation and other unholy specters join and collide, smothering. While it goes a mid-paced tempo for the most part of the song, the spiraling monster morphs into a profane doom-tinged chomp n' stomp during the finalizing minute, an absolutely tremendous simple riffs made atmospheric with a melancholic and utterly profane, nostalgic melody, still tinging in my ears. Temple Nightside are perhaps not so profound about exploring evil as Antediluvian, but their fiery, abrasive mutilation is an intriguing experience, too. The Australian duo firstly choose a primal and raw production for their music to go through, and they load up their artillery with necrotic, disseminating chords, switching from doom to war metal to Incantation mid-pace quicker than you can say ''Cogitating Vacuous''. The vocals are laden with obscurity and abrasive hate both, and the guttural deliveries exceed especially during the faster moments of shadowy brilliance.

The verdict here is obvious. The two abominations of blackened death metal once again fabricate material that ensure their grasp on evil, and while the main reason I got this split was because it featured an exclusive track from Antediluvian, Canada's finest in my opinion, (and I still think their part of the split was better) I can't deny that Australians killer black/death scene is growing more ominous and efficient with Temple. What else can I say about this split? It' everything I want in one, small package. The whole profusion is abstract, otherworldly, chthonic, surreal, and everything religion worked upon is now a mere gathering of rubble, picking up dust as a new, profane ritual starts blossoming as we speak. Go forth, the dark winds are uttering you name.

Highlights:
Communion With The Void
Somnambulent Of The Void

Rating: 88%

Outre - Tomb

Outre are a band which hail from Canada, playing a brand of pretty simplistic raw speed/thrash. I wouldn’t call their style numerously repeated, or gimmicked, but considering there much more arduously constructed songs out there, they fall short of original, nonetheless, they still deliver a bristly covered slab of solid old school speed/thrash, hinted with some hardcore punk madness.

Yes, Outre’s demo ‘’Tomb’’ is vociferous, raw and inept in technical skill. Fortunately, though, such an endowment is not the intention of the demo, therefore, you’re left alone with thirteen minutes of punkishly raw speed/thrash, nothing else. Warsenal, another Canadian band which left us with a catchy demo, offered a better demo than Outre if truth be told, although they played a similar branch of speed/thrash. Outre draws heavy influences from the early thrash/punk, but the thick, sparse guitar tone enables the riffs just a pinch heavier.

The riffs are savage and they’re not meagre, rather prolific actually. They’re simple, though, usually crusty chugs and meandering chord progressions, but they’re webbed together with strong links and joints that establish a robust structure, which is more than I could ask for. But although it’s savage revulsions will gravitate people towards it, but riffs suffer from occasional inaudibility, caused most likely by the unnecessary amount distortion that the tone is doused with. The vocals are punk driven as well, savage and rough barks, but like the riffs they tend to suffer casualties from their lack of spike and enlightenment.

‘’Tomb’’ is not at all a bad demo, only a very raw one. It bares the materials needed construct a far more intense and pummelling force of punk oriented speed/thrash that could augment into a thorn far deadlier, and far more substantial. Outre will need to endeavour in order to achieve that sound, and they will need time to make their raw material more credible. We shall wait and see.

Highlights:

Commando

Les Chiens De Tindalos

Rating: 72%

Antediluvian/Adversarial - Initiated In Impiety As Mysteries

Because I’m relatively new to the modern metal scene, there has not been many releases that I felt excited about so far, but I can see that the tide is definitely changing. Nuclear War Now! Productions have an incredible roster, consisting of bands which mainly devote themselves to the darker aesthetics of death metal, and in the near past, bands like Weregoat or Wrathprayer have clutched me with their woeful hooks and pulled me down into abysmal and fathomless pits, fuelled by constant anger and fury, and their most recent offering, a two way split played by two of the most deadly Canadian bands has crashed onto my shore, and the moment I saw which bands were making it up, I literally felt a warm, sublime wetness in my pants.

Antediluvian and Adversarial are two very cunning black/death acts that have proved themselves in the year 2011 more than many people would have really expected. While Adversarial’s ‘’All Idols Fall Before The Hammer’’ was speedy train full of airy confessions of splintering death metal, juicy, carnal and ultimately destructive, ‘’Through The Cervix Of Hawaah’’ was a strong redolent of Portal and Impetuous Ritual, yet, it was still much praised for its eerie and corrupted nature, bettering the listener into crumbling bits with the drowsy grooves of a darkened pendulum swing, slowly exterminating and vomiting relentless evil. Both bring the best of their sound to the table and join them under one banner, deviating little from their previous style, on this split.

The first half of the split belongs to Adversarial, spewing forth three hymns of malicious evil and completely perplexing speed, utterly frenzied and eruptive.  Both bands play their own distinct style of naturally evil-bred death metal, but because they grasp the largely consuming notion in a way that they make almost tangible, both their formulas somehow crash and cross at some point, and with half the product belonging to Adversarial and half of it belonging to Antediluvian, you get a much saturating portion of each band’s inventive style of presenting cantankerous evil. Adversarial’s material flows much more viscously than the other half, as the band unleashes a devastating barrage of gritty energetic and simply pulverizing riffs, overflowing with catchiness and cosmic reverb drenched horror. The super fast discharge of riffs follow each other like a spiralling vortex of brutal terror, streaming to the surface at some point, yet still keeping its existence robust in underground territory, and the mass exploitation of inhuman snarls and constantly grinding tremolos are supported by both a crispy production that allows the cathartic vigor to replenish itself repeatedly and a massive, beat laden pursuit, attached to the riffs, culminating devastation and monstrosity as the train passes. Adversarial’s side of the split, ‘’Leviathan’’, is simply cunning, razor sharp and laden with terrifically composed queer chord sequences, summing to be a most efficient collection of three songs.

Antediluvian’s side of the split, which is the actual reason I came here, is a direct delivery of what was in ‘’Through The Cervix Of Hawaah’’, an oppressive, inconsistent and non-accessible cloud of sickening blasphemy, a shower of constantly diffusing gobs of shadowed evil. Constant buzzing and crushing evil is what dominates ‘’Lucifer’’, their side of the split, and yet, in a way, Antediluvian’s brand of suffocating blackened death metal, is just as effective as Adversarial’s, despite the extremely slow passages blocking some of their cunning and shrewd usage of evil putting them a back the second half. Either way, this split is no competition, only and intense and suspense expression of unholy evil. One thing that really makes Antediluvian’s music a traumatizing experience is that they like to slightly experiment with even more bizarre techniques, and in the end each song possesses a cloudy aura of cosmic reverb and befouling bleakness. Each song is encompassed by megalithic columns of depressive aura which is just as pungent as the evil one, and believe me, Antediluvian thrive the atmosphere present and the atmosphere develops in to something utterly inhuman, and there are truly very few band which can manage to do such wonders with atmosphere.‘’Force Of Suns Of Adversary’’ is simply an excellent beginning for ‘’Lucifer’’ swaying and swaggering in mid paced tempos, dancing ponderously around a pitch-black pyre, while the next track, ‘’Dissolution Spires’’ expands the atmosphere and draws the listener into a more spacious ground, and spurting out a vicious cluster of rapid riffs, but the true Magnum Opus of the B side of the split is ‘’Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh (I Am That I Am)’’, a repulsive, intensified and inhumating lump of inundating density, swallows you and sucks you in with its vacuum like hole, opening the gates to a void of ethereal darkness within mere seconds.

‘’Initiated In Impiety As Mysteries’’ lives up for its name in every way possible. It’s the most intricate and explosive expression of impious inhumanity, for such an incredible release, it would be best if we granted merits and accolades to the band, as it is the best thing we can do. Adversarial resembles the sheer complexity and mind boggling prowess of impiety, while Antediluvian, which appealed to me more than its peer, is the dark, shallow and bleak overtone of mystery, an abysmal aspect, camouflaged as something almost entirely different. Simply put, this split is one of the best black/death releases the year has offered so far, and in such profane glory against all things orthodox and holy, it’s impossible not to lose yourself in what these two hellhound’s have created; a bleak void of evil, absolutely grasping and all-consuming. 

Highlights:

Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh (I Am That I Am)

Dissolution Spires

Swirling Chaos That Swallows Horizons 

Spiraling Towards the Ultimate End

Rating: 92%

Revenge - Scum. Collapse. Eradication

On first listen (especially if you're ears aren't hardened for this sort of bestial music), ''Scum. Collapse. Eradication.'' sounds like noise. No surprise there, though, as I'll gladly welcome another slab of disgusting, noisy and utterly chaotic blackened death metal with open hands. Surely, the number of bands who try the same abhorrent formula of pulverizing complexity and brain-harassing chaos has increased rapidly over the years, resulting in a conflict between bands who all try to achieve relentless brutality, adamant evil, and with so many poor bands colliding, the scene has been re-shaped thus many have forgotten the true leaders of the pack. Revenge come with a grindcore soaked lump of chopping blackened death metal that should make a few bend the knee.

First impressions can be abusing, and faulting, and if you're going to omit the entire catalogue with your verdict for just one riff, then you get the hell out and try something softer for your ears. Revenge bring sublime ferocity and darkened complexity to their heavily blanketed textures of gritty, cantankerous black metal, with even some old school grindcore flurry added, and with other grinding instruments involved, I doubt anyone would come out of this with at least some pain in their ears. And that's for the tougher ones, I'm afraid. So lots of melody freaks and going to suffer from sore and bleeding ears.

I'm you're a little more patient though, you're guaranteed to be rewarded handsomely for your waiting. Revenge stick to the same formula that they've always went along with, so I don't think many will be bewildered by the music here, though I especially like the execution, making the album even more crazed and crushing than it ought to be, which is great. The riffs come out of nowhere and the tempo tends to twist and churn a lot, so there you have it; a menacing black/death formula that eagerly follows and consumes, butchers and distorts and brings intricate vehemency upon the battlefield. As you ears get more used to the raw mix, you'll find that the album bares a crunchy thrash crust, and the grind drenched riffs will begin to sound more appealing with that destructive blackened punk attitude sprayed all over it. Revenge fashion the frantic face of death metal more than the chaotic arrow fire of black metal, so they do have some diversity compared to other war metal bands.

Another alluring fact; the instruments don't drown each other. They don't shun or outshine each other either, so we've got guitars, drums and vocals anchoring to balance each other throughout the whole album, and the balance is truly maintained well even though the stubborn rigidity of the music feels as if the album was trimmed with tiny break segments dividing it.  The vocals are another frantic addition to the already merciless orchestra, just like sporadic leads fragmented across the album, often switching into dog like barks and rather unpleasant exhalations instead of raspier, throaty gutturals. Put all of these together, and BAM; you have furious chainsaw guitar forays with dogs barking over it. Revenge once again show that war metal is not for softies and it's a genre that's furious, relentless, raw and crusty, so poseurs should keep out of Revenge's territory. Seriously, this beast is hostile.

Highlights:
Banner Degradation (Exile In Death)
Pride Ruination (Division Collapse)
Retaliation (Fallout Prayer)


Rating: 84%

Gatekrashör - Fear Of Attack

Ever get bored of the oppressive heft of atmospheric bands, or the devastating hammers that keep crushing your skull? Ever want something a little different? If you're up for something dynamic, fresh and extremely catchy, then I've got your answer right on my fingertips. Gatekrashör's new Ep ''Fear Of Attack'' is some 80's speed/thrash metal worship done right. As the current scene is being plagued by numerous bands that repeat the same style over and over, it's becoming increasingly difficult to find something that's actually original or enjoyable and easy to listen to. Bands are putting so much effort on the sheer intricacy of their music that they immediately forget that producing catchy, light and simple material is also crucial while writing compositions. Fortunately, bands like Gate Krashör, Infiltrator and Witchtrap are eager to bring pain to our necks by offering some top notch speed metal, the old school way.

Gate Krashör's frenzied incursion of lightweight speed/thrash is no stranger to the old school sound, and you probably aren't such a stranger to their sound, but by adding some lucid twists and sharp turns, they manage to bend their brand of metal for the perfect measure, rendering themselves to sound very comprehensible, yet ridiculously pleasuring and original. All The typical traits of speed metal are here, with a hint of that old school thrash metal evil put in.The first track ''Blastwave'' stands back for its first minute or two, right before exploding into a frantic speed metal assault, with bluesy chords and gallops, swiping the listener away into an undeniable headbang fest right away. The riffs may actually seem slightly muffled and cracked, but that's their charm as the production also offers the same shattered quality in order to boast the whole ''old school'' effect, which works perfectly.

I'm surprisingly content with the vocal delivery, because the vocalist doesn't tend to scream his lungs out, but he actually keeps his voice low with a few evil rasps coming and going with little frequency. The drums usually don't display anything worth bragging about, but I especially liked the beats on this Ep. They're clear, almost as audible as the guitars, and the drummer can really manage to create to amazing fills and attacks that work with ease alongside the galloping, groovy riffs. The riffs are usually all that you'd expect, straightforward tremolo pickings and galloping chugs, but they never cease to entertain me, and they're even flourished with sporadic technical fragments. Gatekrashör are for any kind of people, people who envy the 80's speed/thrash sound, people who love their speed metal, or people who're basically looking for something dynamic and spiking. If you too are on a quest to achieve similar goals, then Gatekrashör's ''Fear Of Attack'' Ep should be your premier destination.

Highlights:
Speed Metal Hammer
Blastwave


Rating: 84,5%