Gathers the captivating threads of their monumental debut, reconnecting the sinews of magnificent oddity forged many moons ago. Channels Eld era Enslaved, transforming many a meager arpeggio into epic windswept vista. Black metal methodologies forge nefarious beauty without subverting their spirit. Melodious without being malodorous, wildly whimsical without ever careening towards catastrophe. Effortlessly engaging, atmospheric in the literal evocative sense, often heavy as fuck-all. In a crowded field you can identify this vision of Fen from a mile away. Shit’s vast; come get lost.
Dials up a pleasing swath of the death spectrum. Decapitated tonality without the dry-heaving edge, Incantation diabolism without the drawl, crooked Immolation irruption with a need for speed, a touch of windswept Mitochondrion madness. Riffs swarm and sweep the legs with staccato pointillism. A superlative rhythm section supports each and every acrobatic attack while guttural orations approach charming psychosis. Worth more dimes than a dozen other fetid death metal outfits.
CD available via the Lavadome store.
Exceptional, idiosyncratic blackness. Adorns Agalloch-like opulence with bizarre bits of Bergraven oddity. Moving melodic overtures torched by excoriating vocals. Gorgeous soundscapes warped enough to allow visions of stranger aeons. Gang vocals and Enslaved-style clean chants dot the landscape, oft pushing the vibe towards psychedelia. Crystal clear, balanced production allows examination of many obtuse facets. So much going on, so much excellence, so many convoys to nothingness.
That feeling when you settle into a tremolated haze, surrendering yourself to the blackness of a blastbeaten storm. Here walk riffs of ponderous weight and majestic mien. Fielding more artillary than your average arpeggiated assault, Yith speak from a position of legitimate potency. Guitar tone rules the day; doom and malevolent melody wield equal power in this maelstrom. Intrigue pervades every minute of these massive tunes. Care was taken, passion was transmitted, elation was received. Hear that bass line? Shit yeah I do. Fuck me this rules.
Much like Sonne Adam or Altars, Convusing carve a coherent niche from roiling, downtuned, deathly weirdness. Turning these amorphous, pitch black materials into ingenious and engaging compositions is no mean feat. Gorgeous riffs roll and heave in tectonic waves, raining dissonant blows upon your battered soul. The more precise abscissions do recall Ulcerate’s oeuvre, but Convulsing have so much more to offer. Herein lie deep space transmissions, doomed intermissions, and clean-sung laments. This is the kind of fuck-all jam I live for.
A deft and deathly trip to the funeral parlor. Demonstrates the elusive doom mojo that turns a tragic trudge transcendent. Slow motion serenades entwine melodies most satisfying. As majestic as the finest Mournful Congregation, as gripping as old Ahab. If you prefer your plight plodding, seek these shores. Hang yourself on these masterful hymns. Prepare yourself, though, for when the pace picks up; neck injury is imminent.
A skillful incursion into the trampled, muddy wasteland where death metal meets tremolated dissonance and ragged sludge. Withered squandered their opportunity in 2016, but Setentia boldly step into that earth-churned breach. Wields wondrous, weighty riffs, malignant melody, and mincemeat grooves in service of a true Pyrrhic victory. A beautiful battery shapes each track, maintaining a precarious balance and blasting circles around surging chaos. Nuance and intricacy survive these tectonic blood-battles unscathed, but your soul may not. Just the right amount of harsh for the here and now.
Mechanized, industrial black/death that owns all the riffs. Diverse rhythms, both synthetic and organic, drive cogent compositions. A parade of fascinating, malevolent riffs ride roughshod over each cybernetic cadence. Less bizarre than Emptiness, but possesses the same peculiar panache. Diligently prods socio-polical beehives with a direct, punk mentality and coarse, inhuman vocals. An addictive dissection of motifs most dear. So many riffs.
Out on December 9th.
Grinds gloriously in an unfathomable, crusty black abyss. Riffs oscillate relentlessly in both atonal and malevolently dark arcs. Unexplored depths are filled with resounding rhythmic fusillades and insensate howls. Rages with the unfettered spirit of bands like Dephosphorus, or Imbroglio. Utterly unique, nourishing and essential noise.
Sarpanitum whet the palate last year for new mystical Mithras space-death. That promise has been fulfilled, delivering all the goddamned guitar sorcery your feeble mortal mind can fathom. A barely veiled victorious ethos propels these extraordinarily massive missives. On Strange Loops' compositional qualities are often reminiscent of space-whale era Gojira, making for a memorable and accessible experience. Above the mesmerizing melee, of course, streaming leads siphon celestial acrobatics straight from Trey Azagthoth's soul. With its thoughtful philosophical arc, ferocious originality, and irresistible riffs, On Strange Loops is certainly one of the year's best.
A work of tenebrous density, unsettling derangement, and surprising nuance. Possesses some of Mitochondrion's windswept, abyssal storm-force, but also writhes with the tentacled screams of Portal. The ability to push mind-stinging riffs to the surface of this roiling cyclone marks Qrixkuor as a breed apart. The album’s compact dynamic range is quite purposeful, holding these heaving tones, demonic leads, and magisterial flourishes close to the vest. Break out your finest electroacoustic transducers, find a padded cell, and commune with some of the years’s finest death metal.