Omnium Gatherum’s “May The Bridges We Burn Light The Way” roars back with a renewed sense of heaviness and melodic precision, blending thrashy aggression with soaring choruses that remind you why they’ve endured for three decades.
The new Carved Into the Sun album offers a deeply atmospheric and rewarding listen for those willing to slow down and inhabit its world.
Despised Icon’s “Shadow Work” is the kind of album that doesn’t just demand your attention. No, it seizes you by the throat and refuses to let go until you’re left gasping for air, bruised but exhilarated. This is deathcore as it should be: unapologetic, self-aware, …
Malakhim’s “And In Our Hearts the Devil Sings” is a polished, ambitious black metal album that balances melody and aggression with skill. Yet, for all its technical prowess, it struggles to escape the shadow of its influences, leaving listeners with a record that’s impressive but not quite unforgettable.
“Lykke” is an album that doesn’t just fill a room, instead it lingers in the air long after the music stops. This latest release is a masterful exercise in atmospheric black metal, where every synth, every distant vocal, and every trembling guitar line feels wrapped …
“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.
Lacabra offer a fresh take on Seattle metal, channeling raw power and swedish death metal energy into a solid debut album.
In a genre often criticized for stagnation, Heaven Shall Burn continue to evolve, proving that metalcore can be both intellectually stimulating and emotionally devastating. “Heimat” is not just an album, but an experience, one that lingers long after the final notes fade. It’s the kind of record that rewards repeated listens, revealing new layers with each spin.
“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.