“Hideous Aftermath” feels like being hit repeatedly with the same blunt object: oddly satisfying at first, then numbing. It’s grotesque, absurd, and loud, but behind the noise, you can hear a band circling the edges of its own exhaustion.
Solbrud’s “IIII” moves like weather over stone: slow, patient, and implacable. It doesn’t seek attention so much as endurance, trading immediacy for immersion. When it works, its vast grey landscapes feel alive and immense; when it falters, you’re left staring into the fog, waiting for something to shift.
“Fællesskab” pushes you in the liminal space where belonging turns to burden and unity to silence. It feels like standing in a crowded hall and realising no one is listening, the collective warmth dimmed to ritual and noise.
A Single Flower blooms in ruin and reflection; heavy, sprawling, and achingly beautiful in its vastness. It may lose pace sometimes, but when it connects it lingers long after the final chord fades. We Lost The Sea prove once their skill and creativity once more.
“Plague Of Cancers” pummels with buzz-saw guitar tone and groove-laden riffs, its HM-2 chainsaw buzz the core of its attack. It may tread familiar terrain, but when it hits right it still smacks like death metal born to be unleashed.
“Soma” moves like a slow tide of ash and memory, equal parts meditative and suffocating. It doesn’t always find its direction, but when it does, BÅKÜ sound like a band discovering the beauty hidden inside exhaustion.
“Embers” drifts between grief and grandeur, letting strings and exotic tones bloom over ruinous guitar swells and mournful silence. Its lengths falter occasionally, but when it catches fire it burns hotter than many peers.
“Think of You” moves between brightness and ruin, refusing to settle for harshness without melody or melody without edge. Its structural familiarity sometimes dulls surprise, but its passion and refined voice keep it compelling.
“The Bestiary” feels like a fever dream carved from stone and smoke, where heavy metal’s past is reborn as mythic theatre. It’s imperfect, sprawling, and utterly sincere and honest.
“Solastalgia” feels like the year’s slow descent into silence, with fallen leaves, fading light, and the ache of something ending. It may waver in pacing, but its sincerity and sense of place make it linger long after the air turns cold.