“Dødsdømmt” is a strong, often compelling slice of Norwegian black metal that honors the genre’s roots while teasing at something more. It’s not a reinvention, but it’s a potent reminder of why the old ways still matter. Ulvehyrde may not have written their magnum opus yet, but they’re clearly on the path.
“Lonely People With Power” is a 42-minute fever dream where black metal’s shrieks entwine with shoegaze’s shimmering haze. It’s ambitious and atmospheric and a step back to Deafheaven’s earlier work. Relentless in its assault on the listener, the band manges to infuse many atmopsheric parts …
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.
“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.
“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.
Blackbraid “III” strikes like a ritual lived out loud, a blackened odyssey that binds ancestral echoes. Its greatest strength is how it never lets the listener settle in its tension and its haunting voice.
“Asservis par l’espoir” is a bleak and ambitious debut that balances dissonant black metal with moments of fragile melody, all carried by anguished French vocals that cut like a knife.
“Candela” is an album that never hides its scars, a raw collision of blackened crust and emotional upheaval that claws at you rather than invites. It falters in pacing and clarity, but its honesty and ferocity keep it burning long after the noise fades.
“Disse Fugle Får Ingen At Se” may not carve new territory, but it stakes ground firmly within it. For listeners drawn to the fragile beauty in decay, to black metal that doesn’t always roar but sometimes whispers, this is a work worth witnessing.