The black cloud over sunny California grows and grows, with each addition to its dark army and each new missive from one of its elite! Black metal has found a strong foothold in this unlikely location. Xasthur, Leviathan, Draugar, Crebain and a small dark likeminded legion lurk in the shadows, far away from the fun and the sun, unleashing some of the most raw and uncompromisng black metal we've ever heard.
AQ pal Wrest and his genius one man avant black metal outfit Leviathan return with what may quite possibly be his best, most intensely weird material to date. We just can't get enough of his dark and violent, totally skewed take on grim frosty black metal. And for this release he teams up with relative newcomer Ancalagon The Black and his outfit Crebain. Not quite as weird as Leviathan, Crebain channels his darkness through a more thrashing Darkthrone/Mutiilation style.
On this split, Wrest takes his ultra distorted inhuman vocals, pummelling hyperspeed blasts, and violent riffery to a whole 'nother dimension, and moves even further away from his contemporaries, both in terms of sound and concept. There are certain sonic similarities for sure, but Leviathan has such a personal and undiluted take on the black sounds that so obviously flow through is veins. For every blast beat and every buzzing riff, there's some stuttery, fucked up breakdown, or extended blissed out ambient soundscape, or rhythmic mathrock workout, or strummy clean guitar jangle, or weird production with all sorts of glitches and strange sounds. The ambient parts here are definitely some of the most beautifully creepy we've ever heard, from a metal band or otherwise. And the metal, well, by now you should know few can touch Leviathan when it comes to black metal brilliance. And the thing is, Wrest doesn't think any of this is weird. He just makes the sounds he hears in his head, and they sound right to him. And they are right, but in such a beautifully weird way. Can't wait for the upcoming full length Tentacles Of Whorror. His half of the split ends with a straight ahead and super necro cover of cult early '90s San Francisco metallers Von's "Blood Angel." Nice.
The other half of this is Crebain's first offical cd release, having previously only released a super limited cd-r demo last year, and it's just as good as that demo led us to hope. This is as raw and buzzing and blazing as it gets. Where Wrest is a master of arranging, creating moods and ambience, Ancalagon is a master of the riff. An unbelievably good guitarist, these riffs are lightning fast and swarm into your ears like a plague of locusts. Thrashing and chaotic, Crebain is a furious no-nonsense metallic onslaught. Programmed drums allow the rhythms to keep up with the madness inducing riffery. Occasionally things slow down to midtempo, and then it becomes quite obvious that Crebain is actually writing catchy songs, not just an insane series of parts. Melodies and almost-groovy riffs propel loping hypnotic dirges towards their eventual obliteration via hyperspeed blasts and that blurry Crebain riffery. Fucking great.
This split is another nail in the coffin containing the corpses of the Nordic metal elite, as black metal's Calfiornia contigent threatens to thaw their frosty corpses with the soul shearing rays of its black sun! Aieeee! Limited to only 666 copies!
Long overdue release of Canadian death metal murk from legendary horde Cremation, the brainchild of J. Reed, who would later go on to play in Axis Of Advance, Conqueror, Arkhon Infaustus and of course the mighty Revenge!
Black Death Cult is a collection of various tracks from early nineties demos, and is a glorious, raw, lo-fi, muddy and murky blackened death metal blow out. The guitars are tuned way down, the vocals are gurgles and grunts, the drums are chaotic and splattery, the arrangements seriously off kilter, no long stretches of droning blasts, or doomy plods, instead, the band lurch and lumber, from brief flurries of high speed thrash, to woozy warped chugging stumble, to freaked out grinding blast, to meandering metallic drift, these songs are bizarre and twisted and convoluted and brilliant. Reminds us a lot of the recent Impetuous Ritual, the same sort of Morbid-Angel-slow-parts-all-strung-together vibe, and the same sort of dipped in tar sound, but with a slightly more trad death metal feel, but only very VERY slightly. This stuff is so fractured and fucked up, that it will more likely appeal to folks into weirder, outsider metal, Wold, Portal, that sort of thing, at some points it almost sounds like Gorguts' Obscura playing at 16rpm, super technical, but grinding and pounding through a druggy syrupy haze. Awesome. One of the coolest, weirdest metal reissues in recent memory.
This is probably one of my (Andee's) favorite new metal records. Imagine some sort of weird mix between Cradle of Filth and Voivod. Technical and blazing fast, but instead of that sing-songy black metal melody that seems to make it into every black metal
Sure, there's lots of great grind bands, but how many can grind like it's 1989? A whole bunch you say. Well, yeah, maybe, but NONE of them can pull it off as well as Cretin, a crushing, grinding ultra-brutal blast from the past. Been hankering for some Scum-era Napalm Death, howabout some early Carcass? Do the names Terrorizer, Extreme Noise Terror and Repulsion send all sort of blastbeats and downtuned riffage careening around your caveman skull? Well then, Cretin is just what you've been waiting for. Fast and filthy buzzing grind metal brutality that does nothing but pound and blast, like a giant metal fist grabbing a handful of your hair and repeatedly smashing your face into the pavement. You know you love it. We sure as hell do. Features ex-members of death thrashers Exhumed and there's even some guest guitar action from one of the Repulsion guys just so you know this shit is for real!
The eagerly-anticipated second full-length (but the first since 2006) by the gutter-crawlers in Cretin sees an essentially brand new line-up since their last album, Freakery.
The brainchild of Marissa Martinez, former guitarist of Repulsion, Cretin crawls out of the same sewer as those grind/death pioneers. The overall atmosphere and structure is remarkably similar to Repulsion's opus Horrified and other early death/grind outfits like Carcass, Terrorizer, and maybe even fellow Bay Area masters Autopsy, but the riffs on Stranger are tighter, more technical, and perhaps even gnarlier. The lyrics, too, go above and beyond, telling intricate, albeit dark and twisted, stories.
On "Mr. Frye, the Janitor Guy," for example, Martinez really packs in the putridity, taking on the perspective of a lazy-eyed janitor who hangs himself in front of school children to get back at them for laughing at him. If you're looking for optimism, you'll not find it here.
Even given how composed and thought out this album feels, the songs never overstay their welcome. The focus is always on quick assaults and punishing riffs, never giving the listener a chance to breath. Believe us, Cretin wants you to suffocate. Recommended!
How could we resist a band called The Crevices Below, whose album is titled Below The Crevices? Hell, just check out album opener "Below The Crevices" (yes!!!), a creeping atmospheric synth heavy subterranean exploration, that does sound precisely like a field recording of what lurks just below the crevices, all blackened swirls, strange machine like rhythms, ominous melodies, anguished wails off in the distance, eventually spidery doomy guitars drift into the picture, and then suddenly, the song explodes in a frenzy of furious synth soaked black blasting, everything cavernous and echoey, the vocals a rasped bellow, the drums pounding, the guitars buzzing, but those thick droning synths transforming the sound into something weirdly alien and majestic. And then out of nowhere, in comes an impossibly melodic clean guitar part, again transforming the sound into something almost poppy, the sound slipping back and forth between that grim synthy buzz, and that soaring melodic poppiness, dense and heavy and droney and totally epic.
Not really sure how we discovered this Australian one man band, pretty sure it was based entirely on the band name, but our obsession spread, first Andee, then Allan, then fellow black metal weirdo Botanist, then aQ pal Monte. Soon after Andee played it on his radio show, and everyone wanted to know what the heck it was. And where they could get it.
So yeah, The Crevices Below, who besides being masters of synth heavy black metal majesty, also create a dark gloomy downer pop the likes of which we haven't heard since the amazing debut from Nuit Noire offshoot Soror Dolorosa, which is how most of Below The Crevices plays out: gothy, gloomy, Joy Divisiony dirges, long expanses of melancholic synthswirl doom pop, washed out and dreamily woozy,�over which a deep ominous croon, that sits right on the verge of hysteria,�wails and howls, occasionally blossoming into something much more black and buzzy, in fact most of the tracks here are a perfectly twisted fusion of goth pop and black buzz, heavy and darkly psychedelic, the synths really the driving force, swooping in to transform what ever buzzing blackness or dour broodery is taking place and turning it into something heavy and epic and mighty, and mighty twisted.
When you break it down, very little of Below The Crevices is truly black metal, several of the tracks strip away the buzz completely, leaving instead a sort of creeping poppy gloom, or some sort of softly hazy, almost shoegazey ambience. "Whispers Of Sorrow" is all spidery guitar melodies wreathed in thick swaths of synthdrone, all underpinned by skeletal drum skitter, while "Trapped In Suicidal Depths" is all gloomy and gothy, heavily effected downtuned guitars, low slung bass, croaked sinister vox, more Christian Death or Specimen than black metal, super spare, the guitars less buzzy and more warm and twangy, the vocals growing more and more anguished, and while there's a brief bit of buzzing guitars and pounding drums midway through, those quickly fade, leaving the rest of the track to unfold like some smeared eyeliner, gothic cabaret.
But bookending this goth-gloom two-fer, is one one side, "A Grand Cavernous Awakening", which might be the most black metal of the bunch, at least initially, the synths adding plenty of pomp to on otherwise grim sprawl of black buzz, while the second half of the song, slips back into moody melodic gothic doom pop, and on the other side, the record closer, the nearly eleven minute "Carrying The Cries Of The Lost", which starts off all hushed and folky, deep vox over acoustic guitar, and simple spare drumming, but then this track too explodes into some soaring buzzing blackness, those synths epic and triumphant, peeling away at one point, offering up the record's grimmest moments, pure metallic crush, only to then shift gears again, and slip into a more melodic half tempo groove, seconds later launching back into a blasting gallop, but instead of grim buzz, super dramatic crooned vox once again transform the sound into something much more gloomy and poppy, before a twisted squall of an ending, flitting from mathy angular crunch, to distorted buzz / synth swirl psychedelia.
So incredible, incredibly weird, and utterly recommended. Another black metal record of the year contender and it's only January (and yeah, we know this came out last year, but it only made it on the aQ list in 2012...)!!
The misanthropic Italian grindcore legends, the one and only Cripple Bastards, return with a brand-new full-length (no, not another singles collection!) on former Brutal Truth drummer Rich Hoak's Deaf American imprint. Giulio the Bastard, Alberto the
Another awesome eighties metal obscurity rescued and reissued by the fine folks at Shadow Kingdom. Some of the metalheads around here (okay, just Andee), had this record when they were teenagers, so were especially excited by this reissue, and it's even better than we had hoped, as it tacks on the unheard-by-nearly-everybody second album, as well as a whole disc of demos.
Crisis were definitely not cool or hip, even back in the eighties. When the world wanted Motley Crue and Quiet Riot, these guys were channeling classic NWOBHM (New Wave Of British Meavy Metal), specifically early Iron Maiden, as well as Motorhead and Raven, with hints of Thin Lizzy and Rory Gallagher, their sound raw and rough, but super rocking and crazy catchy, the vocals sometimes a dead ringer for Maiden's Paul Di'Anno, their sound heavy, but hooky, and the songs, totally catchy, and super rocking. If only they had been about ten years earlier, things might well have turned out differently.
As it is, NWOBHM obsessives would do well to check this out, and fans of classic eighties metal, you probably remember these guys already and most likely want this, and if you never heard these guys, you're in for an eighties metal treat!
Includes a massive booklet, featuring the original 'sexy' gun toting babe album cover, liner notes, photos and lyrics.
You think you've got some weird cds in your collection? Make room for this one if you dare. Heck, as soon as we peeped the crude fantasy cover art, we were like, new favorite album!
'80s Mexican heavy metallers Cristal Y Acero (Crystal And Steel) were responsible for this strange record, originally released in 1984, billed as the "Primera Opera Rock Mexicana". Kuman was indeed a wild Spanish-language rock opera, apparently about a muscular Tarzan-type character (...in SPAAAAACE!!!). We're not sure, but from the photos included here we think this Kuman musical may have been an actual stage production, or maybe even something filmed for Mexican TV. It comes off like a weird, metallic mash-up of, like, Meatloaf and Os Mutantes, combining Cristal Y Acero's hard n' heavy old-school metal riffing with a variety of other pop musical genres - proggy pomp-rock, sappy soft rock, piano balladry, and more. It of course gets cheesy but in an amazing insane kitschy way, and always Cristal Y Acero's fuzzy hard rock riffage, harmonized leads, and gruff vocals come back in to kick ass, after whatever else happens. There's slinky lounge grooves, guest female vocals, '50s rock & roll pastiche, and METAL.
But that's not all, this cd also includes all the tracks from Cristal Y Acero's more traditional self-titled debut album from 1983, with some songs sung in English. It's pretty charming and cool too, with chugging guitars, widdly solos, and lots of raw old school metal might, in the style of such bands as Saxon and Accept - but Mexican, and on a budget. Presented together with Kuman, this disc is something for both cult metal aficionados and those into straight up WTF? strangeness.
Packaged in a mini-lp style sleeve, with inserts. Perhaps not remastered from the original master tapes.
Crom are funny guys. Their first record, The Cocaine Wars, featured one of the best album covers EVER, a Heavy Metal Magazine style painting of a hot babe in armor, riding a huge polar bear, across a vast tundra, covered in a thick layer of snow, that once the booklet was opened, was revealed to actually be mounds of cocaine being sniffed by a mighty Viking! The new record, features the band painted in the same style as the first record, all Vikings, wearing armor, swords at their side, one flipping the bird, trudging across another snowy expanse, that this time, once the booklet opens, becomes the fluffy bedspread of a sleeping Viking, warm and cozy beneath a polar bear skin, his arm around his sleeping wench. Needless to say we were sold before we even heard a note.
And musically, these guys are pretty goofy too, tons of short short tracks, as many skits and interludes and weird sonic experiments as there are proper songs. But the key to Crom is that A. They really are funny, and the skits, while often dumb or puerile or pointless, are in fact pretty hilarious, and B. The riffs KILL. To the point of being incredibly frustrating, as each song cuts off after only a minute or two, leaving the listener wanting more. Way more. But somehow, all of those metallic fragments, and all of the fucked up silly non-musical moments, are woven into one awesomely over the top, confusional genius mess.
The sound is part black metal, part classic metal, part grind, a little Fucking Champs, some death metal, a little doom, it's obviously the work of some seriously obsessive metalheads, with seriously short attention spans, but the songs when they kick in totally destroy, from furious thrashing blackness, to grinding churning chug, to what-the-fuck metallic free for all, to total classic old school majestic metal, often all in the same song, and then there's all the snippets from movies, the bits of dialogue, the weird whispered vocals chanting 'join us', the entire track made of the sniffle of cocaine sniffing (we assume), weird epic fade-in's that fade in to nothing, some seriously Melvins-y sludge, confusional collages of samples and downtuned riffage, but none of that shit would fly if the band weren't capable of rocking like mother fuckers, which they most certainly are.
And be sure and stick around for the hidden last track, crickets, burbling brook, some distant humming, some Orc-ish growling, monks chanting, incantations, a bunch of crazy Jesus samples, and then a furious blown out lo-fi blast of chaotic metallic grind, the whole thing finishing off with one of those little chunk of music from an after school special or one of those "one to grown on" TV spots.
Hot Sumerian Nights will probably frustrate the shit out of a lot of folks, but they could be quickly won over with a polar bear, a warrior babe, a wall of amps and lots and lots of blow...
L.A.'s kings of grindcore first full length (after a shitload of comps and 7"s). Heavy and noisy and totally hilarious. From the airbrushed cocaine/Conan the Barbarian 70's-van art cover, to the ridiculous between song banter (lifted from Venom and others) to the sort-of-appropriation of metal classics and 70's am radio hits that occasionally surface between bursts of all out grind, this record fucking rules. Think Crossed Out but not as slower and sloppier, or think Man Is The Bastard with a sense of humor.
Awesome.
Basically Borknagar.
Second release on Handmade Birds from this post (sort of) black metal outfit, formerly called Frail, when they were black metal only in as much as they had shrieked vokills, musically, their sound was much more in line with the Cure or Depeche Mode, dark depressive almost new wave, and wait a second� that's basically true of Crooked Necks as well, after a whole record of Joy Division covers (the recently reviewed Something Must Break 12"), this brand new full length doesn't sound all that far removed, dark shimmery bass lines, lots of chiming melodies and gloom pop guitar jangle, crooned vocals, a little reverby shimmer, softly propulsive rhythms, Crooked Necks are one of those rare bands that all metalheads seem to like, even though they're not even remotely metal. It's that weird heavy metal rule that states all metalheads must like the Cure and Depeche Mode, but just applied to a more modern band, which does make sense cuz again, take those shrieked vocals away, and this record could have come out on Sacred Bones or Captured Tracks or Wierd. But hey, that's fine with us, we're merely questioning why these guys are classified as metal, black or otherwise, maybe they're not so much anymore, regardless, we love this stuff, dreamy blissed out gloom pop, the weird thing is we'd almost even like it more sans the harsh vox, then it would just be pure crystalline jangle pop, a little gloomy, a little gothy, but pretty much total pop. The vocals definitely give it an edge, and there is some cool, slightly weirder stuff going on as well, some strange production, backwards swoops an swirls, but for the most part this is just a great new wave downer pop record, that yeah, if you're an adventurous metalhead, you just might dig, and if you're a popkid, and don't mind a bit of black screech, this could definitely be a new fave.
We first heard from Crooked Necks on their split with Finnish (sort of) black metal weirdos Circle Of Ouroborus. And as CoO made their way to the new Handmade Birds label, it makes sense that Crooked Necks would too. Born of the band Frail, who we raved about a while back on the list, who essentially sounded like a black metal Cure, or more accurately, they sounded exactly like the Cure, or a similarly dour new wave band, just with black metal shrieks instead of the typical deep gothic croon. That band transformed into Crooked Necks, and while the sound didn't change all that much, the vox were dialed back a bit, and the band began to sound more and more like an actual cold/new wave band, with the occasional BM tendencies, instead of the other way around.
This brand new 12", launching Handmade Birds' new White Label series, was apparently recorded a long time ago, and was born of some unnamed tragedy, and because of that was shelved for years, only now finally seeing the light of day. The most interesting part is that it's a collection of Joy Division covers, presented pretty true to the originals, but reimagined enough to make them interesting and a bit weirder. The A side is a bit more upbeat, so much so that we had trouble realizing that it was in fact meant to play at 45rpm, but the band definitely make these their own, which really is no great feat since they sort of sounded like Joy Division to begin with, but the drum programing is creative, the strange effects add a twisted vibe, it's mostly instrumental, but then the vocals do appear, they're buried in the mix, and heavily reverbed, ominous and mysterious and dramatic. The B-side is where it gets great, the band take on "New Dawn Fades" and "The Eternal", gloomy and dirgey and darkly haunting, emotional and melancholy, "The Eternal" especially, all spaced out and abstract, there are some shrieks on the B side, but just a few, and at first it was hard to tell they were voices, it could have been some sheet of high end guitar, but instead of distracting, it simply adds more emotion and passion.
The weird thing is that these guys are beloved by metallers, and that it ended up on Handmade Birds, when it almost sounds like it could have been some unearthed rarity reissued on Dark Entries. Gorgeous, haunting stuff. Fans of gloom rock and doom pop and the various waves (cold, synth, new, etc.) will definitely dig.
LIMITED TO 250 COPIES, in plain black sleeves, with no labels, simple black and white stickers on the front and back.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
From Encinitas, California, land of surfers, and the Navy, and of course Andee's young adulthood, comes the short lived but hugely influential Crossed Out. Progenitors of the now ubiquitous powerviolence/grindcore scene, along with Man Is The Bastard and Drop Dead, Crossed out were a howling lo-fi mess of blastbeats and mangled riffs, grunting and shrieking through 30 second songs and 12 song 7" sides. This cd collects for the first time (minus a bootleg or two) everything they ever recorded, including their splits with Man Is The Bastard and Drop Dead, as well as a bunch of live stuff. Absolutely essential.
How can you not love a band called Schnauzer? You can't. Not. Love them! We discovered a super fucked up looking cd in a bargain bin somewhere and bought it just cuz the band was called Schnauzer, and of course it was awesome and of course we were immediately obsessed. So here's a brand new disc from these miscreants, and just so you now what we're talking about here, the cover features a mugshot of some shifty looking dude with a wicked devillock, the songs are called "Total Lunatic" and "Blasted Beyond Belief", and here's a message for the listener in the liner notes: "Do NOT attempt top contact this band. Any efforts to do so will further agitate the members of Schnauzer. If you don't like us now, you CERTAINLY won't like us should we become angry. LEAVE US ALONE." Fuck yeah! And the sound? A furious pounding metallic hardcore, a howling vocalist that sounds a bit like Fozzy The Bear from the Muppets, filthy, cruty, blown out, heavy and MEAN as a Schnauzer!
It's a split with some Cleveland band called Crossface, who are cool, NY style hardcore, short pounding and brutal, two tracks, but it hardly matters really, it's ALL ABOUT SCHNAUZER!!!!!!!!
Uh...ok, this one's straight-up embarrassing. For us, 'cause we kind of like it! Can we even justify reviewing something called Big Fat Box Of Shit? We're usually the first to condemn "joke bands" (and good grief we get enuff of 'em here in San Francisco). But once in a while, against our better judgement, one of 'em make us laugh. Or simply astonishes and astounds us with their (misplaced but) incredible musical chops. Crotchduster is one of those. It's a side project of Florida technical death-metal act Capharnum (whose album Fractured we recommended on list #190) and it reveals their obvious love of Frank Zappa and juvenile, bathroom-stall humor. Definitely not for the easily offended or overly intelligent, as the R-rated sexist, scatalogical "humor" here is definitely dumb. About the only lyrics that aren't overtly rude are all the inside jokes about someone named "Bill Williams"! But the lyrics aside, the way these guys jump from blasting grind to fake AOR to hip hop skits to pop punk to whatever style of music they decide to skewer next is *amazing*. They do it dead-on. I mean, Mr. Bungle never juggled genres as deftly as these guys! Such a genre-splicing approach can either be intended as an avant-garde, post-modern, serious thing, perhaps with weird overtones (Candiria, Naked City, Sigh) or just for yuks (Steven Schultz, Spazztic Blurr, Reggie and the Full Effect, Crotchduster), with the likes of Mr. Bungle and the Secret Chiefs 3 falling somewhere in the middle I guess. So Crotchduster is at the low-brow-for-laffs end of the scale, where the jokes are soooo dumb ("Mammal Sauce"?) but so elaborate (like the interminable fake hate-mail reading towards the end of the disc) that it's almost funny even when it's not funny (or *that* it's not funny, the 'Neil Hamburger effect' we could call it). Insanely stupid but incredibly well done. It'll either leave you laughing or asking "why?" or both... you'll certainly be impressed by the (waste of?) musical talent displayed here. Definitely for Steven Schultz fans...imagine a foul-mouthed, misogynistic Steven Schultz with his mind in the gutter...
The latest release from this band of heavy New Orleans doom peddlers. Formerly monolithic, monotonous sludge metal not really on par with the similar likes of EYEHATEGOD, Crowbar have now become a much more mulit-dimensioned band and are well-worth checking out. Fans of the late great Acid Bath should be aware that former AB guitarist Sammy Duet (also now of Goatwhore) has added some of the melody and imagination of Acid Bath to Crowbar's sound. One example: the beautiful piano dirge "To Touch The Hand of God". Also, there's a pretty great cover version of "Dream Weaver" to close out the album!
A fresh blast of NWOSDW (that would be New Wave Of Swedish Death Metal) froom the Crown. Furious old school thrash metal with ultra slick production, hooky melodies, majestic harmonies, furious drumming, shredding guitars, and some dangerously groovy breakdowns. The sound is very reminiscent of In Flames, Children Of Bodom and At The Gates, which makes sense since this is the first Crown record to feature new vocalist Tomas Lindberg who used to sing for At The Gates.
Doomhounds, arise from ye slumbers! The Shadow Kingdom label knows what you want, and have dug up yet another dismal dirge-like debut for your delight. Right on the spine it proudly says "English Doom" and indeed Crowned In Earth hail from that green and pleasant land, home of course to thee originators of doom metal, Black Sabbath. And so naturally Crowned In Earth echo Sabbath in spots, that's no surprise, most practitioners of the form do to some degree, from wherever they may come. But apart from Sabbath, the English Doom band this act most resembles is (early) Cathedral, especially on the disc's longest (by a smidge) track, "Miles I Walk", which clocks in at 8:59. Songs need to be that long when played with such solemn majesty (and at such molasses-like speeds). Crowned In Earth keep to a slow and plodding pace, mostly, though upon occasion they break, if not into a NWOBHM-ish gallop, at least into a spirited trot. Their sludgy but swinging riffs are adorned with singsongy vocal chant, delivered cleanly and nigh melodically, in a deep and phlegmy voice, which is one reason in particular for the Cathedral comparison. Again, we'll specify early Cathedral, circa the Soul Sacrifice ep, to get really precise. Along with the doleful guitars, the occasional touch of organ adds an extra measure of sombre regality, and brings up comparisons also to another English ensemble of doom, The Wounded Kings. While this breaks no new ground, the earth they're crowned in being far from freshly dug, this should appeal to fans of trad doom, especially Cathedral, and Reverend Bizarre, who we didn't mention already but are definitely hearing here.
By the way, it turns out that CoE are almost entirely a one-man band (but not the sort that, you know, performs that way, busking on subway platforms or whatever). Englishman Kevin Lawry, whom you'll see wandering in front of a castle with his girlfriend (?) in the cd photos, wrote all the music and lyrics, and performs the vocal, guitar, bass, and organ parts. He did however recruit a Yank to play the drums (well, both Black Sabbath and Cathedral did that too): Darin McCloskey, from Pale Divine, Falcon, and Sinister Realm. But otherwise it's all Lawry's show, and while maybe we think he could have used some help with the graphic design, he should be commended for being sooooo dooooomy all by himself. Hmm, heck, maybe that helps!
Some seriously demented, demonic, and punishing Swedish grind/death/metal/core. Huge riffs that crush everything in their path, melodies and guitar licks that twist like terrified hostages trying to squirm loose and run for their lives, pounding, super innovative drumming, and of course a vocalist that sounds like he's got a mouthful of marbles, demons AND broken glass. In addition to all this crunch and pummel, there are some occasional super weird breakdowns, half time almost mosh parts augemented by weird electronic pulses and reverby drone. Cool.
It's been a while since we've listed something really fantastic in the way of "European power metal". But we recently got turned on to this album, a relatively early entry in that not-so-well-respected genre, reissued by Divebomb (who recently brought us the tech-thrash of Deathrow, among other rare metallic reissue treats). The Dying Race was originally released in 1991 via Century Media, way back when Century Media was an import label only, so we'd never run across it before. The band name intrigued us though, so we gave this reissue a listen, and damn, Crows are pretty killer!
This disc is a forgotten slab of primo Teutonic power metal indeed, solid and heavy, with rapidfire double bass and soaring vocals, from an American Indian themed (what is it with Germans and American Indians? Remember those "Indianerfilmen" soundtrack compilations we used to have?) band featuring past and future members of Scanner, Mekong Delta, Angel Dust, and Sodom. There's something very powerful and serious-seeming about the vibe here, super melodic and utterly majestic, but much darker than much of the stuff for which the oft-cheesy power metal genre is now known.
There's a definite hint of early Ride The Lightning era Metallica-ish speed metal chug to their sound, and prog metal a la Fates Warning and Queensryche are factors too, heard in the proggy instrumental spirals of the title track and in the dramatic vocal presence elsewhere on the record. We'd also cite some epic doom influence, a bit of Candlemass in there perhaps, though Crows are generally much speedier than those doomsters (though they do slow it down for some moody passages now and then). Amongst their power metal peers, we'd compare 'em to fellow Germans Blind Guardian, but again, a bit darker.
Turns out The Dying Race was not only Crows' debut but also their swansong. The band, which had existed in various forms for about ten years prior to the album's release, broke up the year after it came out. Too bad, but at least they left us with a grand epitaph, now reissued with 7 bonus cuts from demos. Plus, the cd booklet is full of lyrics, photos, and a new interview with one of the founding members of Crows.
Released a little while ago on the ever eclectic and elite Profound Lore label, the debut by blackened thrashers n' bashers Crucifist is something we don't want to overlook. It's not just another band featuring Brutal Truth bassist Dan Lilker (also ex-Anthrax, Nuclear Assault, S.O.D., Venomous Concept, Hemlock, Exit-13, etc.) but also features two members of true doomlords Orodruin. So, while Crucifist ostensibly play (very) old-school black metal, they also incorporate an unhealthy helping of doom and death-grind musicks, anything really to make this disc all the more filthy and crusty sounding. Lilker's rubbery bass is simply sick, a heavy anchor for the wicked riffs, widdly guitar bits, and the wretched vokills (by a guy named Ron, who is thus nicknamed "The Rondertaker", haha). The Rondertaker reminds us a bit of King Fowley from Deceased, singing in a raspy guttural gargle with the occasional Tom G. Warrior death grunt. Throw in some horror movie atmospherics (such as "Neon Corpse", an interlude of chant and FX) and copious amounts of chaotic energy (surging to the fore on such cuts as "Witchgrip"), and you're in for a nice and nasty dose of old schoolish underground extreme metal mania. They've basically written their own review of this album with the song title "Skull-Smashing Face-Ripping Death"... if you like that, you'll like this! Another one that might do for a review, meant in the best possible way: "Putrid Mother Lode"!
This should appeal to fans of the ancient likes of Venom, early Voivod, Autopsy, and Hellhammer, especially the latter when they slow it down, which they do to crushing effect often enough... it should also be noted that Crucifist dare to blaspheme against NWOBHMer's Angel Witch with a cover of their "Angel Of Death"!
By the way, guitarist John Gallo, one of the Orodruin guys, also has a solo project called Blizaro, doing synth-based, Italian horror soundtrack influenced, eccentric doom metal, that RULES, and will have a new full-length out on Razorback sometime this spring that we expect will be amazing, look out for it!
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Two local (Oakland) metal bands duke it out on this split disc, one so heavy that it took four labels to put it out. Cruevo say they play "crusty sledgehammer stoner doom" while Brainoil opt to describe themselves as a "crusty wizard sludge metal" band. Well, whatever they want to call it, both bands churn out some mighty heavy, ugly punk/metal, doubtless inspired by such bands as Buzzoven, Eyehategod, Neurosis, and High On Fire. Yet more nightmare Sabbath spawn unleashed upon the world... In case it helps in your purchasing decision, here's what t-shirts the various band members are seen wearing in the booklet photos: Assuck, Spirit Caravan, Destruction, Oakland Raiders, Weedeater (we think) and Sunn.
Extra points go to Cruevo for the Shut Up Little Man! sample introducing their half of the disc.
We're huge fans of guitarist Matt Baldwin, we are so smitten by his psychedelic kraut-guitar drift, beholden to Fripp and Riley and Reich and Rother but also the Appalachia of Fahey and Kottke. So when he brought in this new disc on Psychic Arts, that's pretty much what we were expecting, although we did think Cryptic Cross was an odd name for some dreamy droney minimal guitar music, so we threw it on and pretty much knew we were in for something completely different. The opening intro is a super lo-fi dirge, all crumbling guitar buzz, sped up voices, tape malfunction, and then suddenly "Don't Chew Worry" kicks in, and we're in full on lo-fi new wave dirge metal territory. At least that's the best way we can describe it. Super murky and lo-fi, buzzy metallic riffage, but strange almost outsider cold wave vocals, crooned, sort of spoken, insane lyrics, the guitar and vocal melodies locked tight, making everything sound sing songy, and then when the vocalist slips into a falsetto, and the guitar shreddery begins, we're in total whathefuck heaven. We say this once in a while, but again, this totally sounds like something you might discover via Brian Turner's show on WFMU, psychedelic, metallic, but with a twisted knuckledragging post punk / lo-fi sludge vibe. Fucking weird, but totally bafflingly genius. Not sure where they're from, or what their deal is, but what we do know is that we have been jamming this nonstop! Fucked up and heavy, warped and drug addled, this is some crazy, kick ass shit!
LIMITED TO 50 COPIES! Each one hand numbered, and housed in a silkscreened origami style cd sleeve.
One of Canada's most complex and brutal death metal exports (along with Kataklysm) release their fourth album. Maybe the vocals (with their unfortunate resemblance to what Rodney Dangerfield would sound like while simultaneously rapping and coughing up phelgm) are a little high in the mix, but the record as a whole is chaotic and intense enough to make up for that...the convoluted guitar patterns and furious but technical drumming will make your head spin.
Finally reissued, the much sought-after second album from these over-the-top Canadian death metal merchants. Fans of the super intense, jawdroppingly technical brutality found on their popular "Whisper Supremacy" album will need to get this previous, equally insane effort! Featuring original vocalist Lord Worm, by the way...
There are plenty of ways to make noise with a guitar. Lord knows the aQ list is proof of that. Whether it's running a guitar through a computer the spews out soft pixelated hum, or leaning a guitar against an amp and letting huge waves of black buzz pour out, or strapping one to a table and attacking it with all manner of toys and implements resulting in plenty of scrape and scrabble, or just running a guitar through a million effects pedals until what comes out the other side is nothing but streaks and blurs and rumbles and roars and barely retains any guitarness at all.
Then there's whatever the hell Alex Nagle does to his guitar that transforms it into Csection. Nagle's name might be familiar to you as the man behind the genius Flittermice Of Eld, a 'group' who took a handful of notes from a Darkthrone song and turned them into a heaving mass of dark drones and fractured buzz. Csection finds Nagle again doing unspeakable and confusional things to his guitar, and again the results are pretty fantastic.
A single 25 minute track, beginning with some weirdly digitized distortion drenched guitar shredding, that sounds a bit like it's been run through a Commodore 64, sheets of high spread out over all manner of strange crumbling low end, detuned riffage, that high end spiraling into squiggly clusters of rapid fire notes one second, sprawling out into a shimmering stretch of soft noise the next. Over the course of the track, the guitar becomes less and less recognizable, at one point shifting into a gloriously burnished field of high end streaks, all assembled into some strange alien melody, while within, various overtones clash and collide, blend and beat feverishly against one another. Imagine Phil Niblock composing for high end shred guitar, or a droned out more static version of one of Mick Barr's maniacal projects (Orthrelm, Octis, Orcrilim).
There are moments here and there, when the high end drops out, and the sound briefly becoming more of a gnarled angular drift, with Marc Ribot like guitars floating in spaced out fields of reverb, atonal, and haltingly melodic, but those interludes are usually quite fleeting, quickly subsumed by still more squalls of Nagle's frazzled and fucked up digital buzz.
This is a super limited cd-r, we've had them a while, so there's a good chance that when we sell out we won't be able to get more. Packaged in cool hand screened red and silver digipacks...
So, what does raw cult black metal and electro-techno dance music have in common? Vocalist Attila Cshihar for one. Yes, the coiled, blackened tongue of Hungary's Attila Cshihar has spat from the depths of many a cultish metal recording, and even weirder places as well. Fans know him best as the voice of Mayhem (post-Dead, pre-Maniac) on their classic De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas album. He was drafted into that Norwegian act on the basis of his experience in his band Tormentor. More recently, he's guested with the likes of Anaal Nathrakh and SUNNO))), whilst playing in his own, Rome-based band Aborym. This 'Beast Of' samples from Attila's work with all those bands and more, collecting alternate versions of previously released or as yet unreleased tracks from his archives, covering his career from 1988-2002. Some other bands you might know whose work with Attila are represented here include Emperor (a Mayhem cover) and Limbonic Art (a pretty cool "jam"). The bands we haven't heard before are some of the most interesting, like Korog and Professor Fate. Meanwhile Attila's own Plasma Pool will be a little too techno for some, but there's plenty more metal stuff on here to make up for that. The lesson you'll get from this is that Attila has a lot of charisma for a singer with such a limited "range", and is drawn to extremes -- or perhaps extremes are drawn to him. And we're talking extremes within a genre that already calls itself "extreme metal". He's got a cool voice, yes, but also is a personality, a brand if you will. The Attila Csihar stamp of approval (i.e. his presence on a record) means it's gonna be even more fucked than you already thought it was, whether it be cult old-school darkness or modern electronica-inflected stuff. Thus, this is a damn cool comp! And computer users will be happy to find a bonus 24-minute SUNNO))) mp3 on the here as well.
Most recent full length from these raw cult black metallers from Chicago. We never had the cd version, but the lp is such a gorgeous piece of work, we figured we oughta list it. Sonically, this is super intense, midtempo blackness, with touches of thrash here and there. A huge Darkthrone influence is obvious, and there ain't nothing wrong with that. Each song a buzzing thrashing blur, some super catchy, killer riffing, distorted processed vocals, and drums WAY up in the mix, but doing some cool stuff, and subtly making the songs a little bit weirder than they might be otherwise. In fact, the more we listen to this, the more it's kicking our ass.�
But as much as we love us a black and brutal slab of raw cvlt black metal, it's all about the packaging. Nuclear War Now! always pulls out all the stops, the recent Root box is a perfect example, but this record is just mind blowing. The cover is a gatefold, and is so thick, it's like opening some old unearthed leather bound book. It creaks and groans and you actually have to put some muscle into it. The inner sleeves are thick to, and printed, so even minus the records, the thing must way 3 pounds! Then the vinyl, ultra thick of course. 180 or 200 gram for sure. But the icing on the cake, is the killer original painting used for the cover art, the gatefold and the poster inside, painted by none other than WREST from LEVIATHAN! Immediately recognizable and so striking (even though the� label somehow put someone else's signature on the cover, ugh). Bits of the painting are also reproduced on the record labels, and the gatefold is just thick swirls of paint, the whole thing is just completely stunning.�
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The third album from this Swedish outfit, and as always they're recommended to all fans of Isis and Neurosis... Katatonia too... and now they nod towards the likes of Godspeed You Black Emperor! and Sigur Ros. This is arty, dirgey, post-rock metalcore. They can be brutally heavy, yet tender and lovely with loooong build-ups of yearning, melodic blissfulness and that can't help but be full of tension at the same time due to our expectation of the eventual crushing kick-in, when the band drops the hammer and unleashes its sheer pummelling might.
Swedish metal/doomcore outfit return to demonstrate once again that Neurosis aren't the only ones who can kick out the crushing, nihilistic, doom metal jams. Like their record before this one, The Beyond is a series of pummelling and epic, minor key dirges, equal parts Neurosis, Katatonia, Isis and classic doom metal. Mid tempo bulldozing rhythms and an absolutely punishing wall of guitars smothers your broken heart and battered spirit in sheer heaviness. It all sounds a little familiar, especially for those of us who already dig Neurosis and Isis. But Cult Of Luna manage to pull a little ahead of their doomy brethren with their deft use of melody and their flair for the unlikely arrangements/dynamics. I mean, you would never hear 3 minutes of gentle slide guitar on a Neurosis record would you? Folks who dug the first Cult Of Luna as well as fans of the above bands will dig this a lot.
MPEG Download: "Receiver" [/audio/cultoflunareceiver.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Receiver" [/audio/cultoflunareceiver.m3u]
As if that great new Isis record weren't enough, we've also finally managed to procure a few copies of this, the hard-to-find 2001 debut album by Swedish metalcore outfit Cult Of Luna, a band definitely in the heavier-than-thou, art-metal mode of fellow tortured souls Isis and mentors Neurosis (circa "Enemy Of The Sun"). Unrelenting waves of mid-to-slow-paced guitar/bass/drum punishment provide the backdrop to the vocalist's throaty screams of pain. Even with the piano and cello that decorate portions of this album, and the occasional quiet interludes offering false respite from their sheer HEAVINESS, it's pretty much a doomy trip of massive, suicidally depressing proportions, with cold, sad melodies making them not unlike a metalcore version of fellow morose countrymen Katatonia. Yeah, Katatonia + Neurosis, that about sums 'em up!
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Epic blackened doom metal from this intercontinental combo, three members in Canada, one in Sweden. The four have never been in a studio together, and one of the guys has never even met the other three, but that hasn't kept them from crafting some seriously epic, dismal doooooom. Sludge-y, crusty, grim and blackened, the guitars are huge slabs of frosty crunch, the drums pound and pound, the vocals a raspy wintery howl, the tracks lengthy and mantra-like, some weird blend of Khanate's ultra funeral crawl, the post Sabbath sludge of Electric Wizard, the epic slow builds of Neurosis, old school death doom like Winter, all wound into something much more modern sounding. The vocals especially, not really black shrieks or doomy growls, instead they're some sort of super distorted harsh hellish howl, almost industrial sounding, but it suits the music, which slips from almost post rock drift, to seriously dense downtuned crush, to spaced out almost psychedelia, to churning, grinding sludge, often exploding into epic, majestic doom psych blowouts, or locking into seemingly endless chugscapes, oozing with black atmosphere, and always seemingly on the edge of total collapse, a plodding metallic deathmarch that resolves in a cloud of glitched out low end buzz. Cool. And killer diecut digipackaging to boot...
It's been four years since the last apocalyptic transmissions from this intercontinental outfit, three Canadians and one Swede (whom the Canadians have never ever actually met, so the story goes!), and now Culted have returned with another harrowing dose of monstrously overwhelming blackened sludge. Oblique To All Paths is over an hour of immersive and corrosive sonic density. 20 minute opener "Brooding Hex" initially creates a false sense of security with its ethereal plucked strings, bathed in reverb, seeming to loop like something from a hazy half remembered dream. The sound of what seems to be rustling paper adding a further surreal layer. But before long, those crumbling lumbering guitars crash to the surface like some long sleeping leviathan reawakened and suddenly all light is sucked out of the room and we're ushered into a world of anguished growls and dissonant maddening leads over terrifying earth splitting grooves. Culted often recall '90s era Neurosis or Godflesh at their most unforgiving, especially with their use of crackling spoken word recordings, looped samples and minimal hypnotic riffing. There are moments of comparative calm here as well. Swirling disorienting clean guitars are layered upon white noise. Fluttering shoegazey leads fight to surface like dying rays of sunlight peaking through black storm clouds. Tribal toms thunder beneath a wall of droning feedback creating a strange sense of suffocating peace. But even these passages act more as an ominous calm before the storm than a moment of respite, only building the dread and magnifying the intensity when those world ending guitars kick back in. Enormous and all encompassing, and while perhaps slightly more musical than the harshest of doom drone acts, there's no reason why fans of Bunkur, Monument Of Urns, Indian or our recently reviewed Legions Of Andromeda won't appreciate this swirling uncompromising black hole of a record.
We recently reviewed the debut full length from this mysterious intercontinental doom combo, whose members are spread across Canada and Sweden, and who have never met in person, and thus obviously never been in the same room together, which made that record, and this new one, all the more impressive.
But perhaps proximity isn't critical to tapping into whatever sinister spirit inspires the sort of filthy doomic crust these guys conjure up. And the sound here is plenty filthy, crusty, AND doomy, and like the first record, a little industrial. Their sound borrows a little from the likely suspects, Winter, Khanate, Electric Wizard, Neurosis and the like, but Culted take those influences and filter them through some seriously blackened sludge, some avant post rock, some industrial crunch, and twists them all up into something gnarled and psychedelic and heavy as fuck.
The two minute opener, is a lumbering chugscape, that sounds like the slower bits from say Spektr or Blut Aus Nord, stop / start churning riffage, over swirls of filthy ambience, a machine like groove, super distorted vox, a black industrial juggernaut, over way too soon, which leads into the 10 plus minute, awesomely titled "Black Cough, Black Coffin", a slow smoldering creep, droned out downtuned guitars, glacial riffage, more hellish vokills, eventually building to a lumbering blackened plod, again, the rhythm almost industrial, the guitars distorted and crushing, the track allowed a brief bit of shimmery drone, before returning to the grim grinding sonic churn, the vocals growing more and more distorted, almost Ministry style, a pounding black doom dirge juggernaut. "Dissent" is a bit more poppy, but that's really relative, a little Jesu / Nadja infused into Culted's grim black crush, with some spaced out clean guitar, billowy clouds of washed out chordal blur, the vocals buried WAY down in the mix, a strange headtripping ambient doom drift, that lurches back into caveman plod, before finishing up all post rocky, with spare percussion, hushed ambience, spidery minor key guitars, a surprisingly lovely outro.
The record finishes with the sub 5 minute "Whore", a Swans cover, which in the hands of Culted becomes a seriously twisted black doom crawl, with a woozy slippery ascending main riff, some more seriously fucked up and harrowing vokills, the sound eventually shifting to something more traditionally doomy, but still infused with Culted's sick twisted take on Swans abject clang and crunch.
