Release
date: 31.10.2025
Formats: CD / LP / Digital
Genre: Black Metal
Country: Brazil/Germany
Born in São Paulo in 2015, Outlaw began as an eruption of defiance, a
reaction to the rot of conformity. The band’s early fire quickly grew beyond
Brazil, finding a new home in Dresden, Germany, where it evolved into a
sharpened entity of disciplined aggression. Across their previous works, Outlaw carved a reputation for channeling raw
black metal through an unflinching vision, violent, transcendental, and
spiritual. “Opus Mortis” continues this path, pushing further into their unique
union of fury and devotion.
From the
first seconds, “Opus Mortis” burns with deliberate direction. Outlaw’s sound here is mature, not in limitation,
but in focus. The guitars blaze with that cold, northern bite, and there’s
something definitely Brazilian beneath the wild pulse that refuses to be tamed.
D.’s vocals remain the axis, rising venomous
and falling like invocations. T.’s drumming
is relentless, detailed, and thunderous, pushing the songs forward with violence
and grace.
The guests
add new colors to the inferno. Jelle Soolsma (Dödsrit) lends haunting tones to “The Crimson
Rose”, while Lucas Veles’ solo on “A Million
Midnights” burns with eerie beauty. Georgios
Maxouris’ appearance on “Those Who Breathe Fire” deepens the album’s
ritualistic energy, a true communion of kindred spirits across borders. Production-wise,
“Opus Mortis” benefits from Daniel Souza’s
ear for balance and Tore Stjerna’s
mastering, which gives the chaos a tangible form. The sound remains feral but
every instrument holds its space. It’s an album that knows its own strength, just forged in black fire and shaped with
determination.
Across its
forty-two minutes, “Opus Mortis” unfolds like a storm with memorable melodies not
softening the violence, and the atmosphere rises from true belief. Outlaw’s fusion of southern heat and European
discipline results in something fierce and human, a work that channels death,
faith, and transcendence through sound. “Opus
Mortis” confirms Outlaw’s place among modern
black metal’s most authentic voices. It’s the sound of a band that no longer
needs to prove anything, only to burn brighter.
Release
Date: 17 October 2025
Format: Digital / CD
Genre: Experimental Death Metal
Country: Poland
Czart is the creation of Michał
Chrościelewski, an artist from northeastern Poland who blends heavy
music with experimental visual storytelling. His debut album, “Czarty Polskie”,
is a strange and fascinating descent into the folklore of Polish demonology,
brought to life with guitars and algorithms. The project uses artificial
intelligence not as a gimmick, but as a symbolic mirror of the “unnatural,”
tying perfectly into the old Polish myth of devils shaping bodies from vapor.
The album’s
concept is rooted in Julian Tuwim’s 1924
book “Czary I Czarty Polskie Oraz Wypisy Czarnoksięskie”. That literary
connection gives the work a sense of historical weight and poetic eeriness. The
lyrics, sung entirely in Polish, add a haunting layer of authenticity. They
sound like fragments of ancient incantations carried through heavy distortion
and primal rhythm.
Musically,
“Czarty Polskie” is an intense hybrid. Death metal and sludge form its
backbone, while hints of 70s psychedelic rock give it an unpredictable, almost
dreamlike texture. The songs are short, raw, and packed with motion, often
under three minutes, which keeps the experience brisk and feverish. “Ballada O
Spalonych Kwiatach” and “Czarcia Kołysanka” are prime examples of how the
project balances heaviness with eerie melody. “W Głębi Boru Ciemnego” feels
like a night walk through a cursed forest, brief but unsettling.
There’s an occult
aura in the entire album, an impression that every sound is part of some
forbidden invocation. The AI-assisted production adds a surreal glaze to the
sound, giving it an otherworldly shimmer that blurs the line between man and
machine. “Czarty Polskie” is not an easy listen at all, its roughness and
brevity work in its favor, creating a concentrated dose of chaos that’s authentic
to its mythological subject.
Blaze’s story goes back to the end of the 90s in
Osaka, Japan, when guitarist Hisashi Suzuki teamed
up with Wataru Shiota, Kenichi Kuwahara, and Tsuneo
Shibatani. Their beginnings were humble, playing local shows and
releasing a two-song demo, “See The Light”, in 2001. Over the years, Blaze became known to heavy metal collectors for
their debut album “Blaze” (2007), an album that echoed the classic energy of
bands like Scorpions, Rainbow, and Heavy
Load. With time, a few lineup changes, and some long gaps between
releases, Blaze has kept a loyal following
in the underground scene. Now, nearly two decades later, they return with their
long-awaited second full-length, “Out Through The Door”.
“Out
Through The Door” runs for about forty-five minutes and continues the band’s
devotion to melodic, riff-driven heavy metal with a clear 70s and early 80s
heart. There’s only straightforward songwriting with a lot of honest charm. The
opening track “1335” gives the first impression of what the album is about; instrumental
mid-tempo hard rock energy, and vibrant guitar melodies leading the way.
Blaze’s guitar
work remains their most distinctive element. Suzuki’s
playing balances warm melodic solos with strong, memorable riffs that keep the
songs grounded in the old-school metal spirit. The rhythm section, driven by Kimura and Funabiki,
keeps everything steady, giving the songs a tight and energetic backbone. “The
Man In White Boots” and “Thrilled To Pieces” have the kind of lively energy
that could have been written during the golden age of heavy metal, while
“Picture On The Wall” stretches over nine minutes and gives the band space to
explore their melodic instincts without losing focus.
Vocally, Wataru Shiota brings a lot of personality. His
singing is not much that classic Japanese heavy metal tone but enough emotional,
a bit theatrical, and full of life. He knows how to lift a chorus and how to
deliver softer moments, as heard in “Someone Special” and “Fort Of Sand”, which
balance the album’s harder edges with a more reflective touch.
Production-wise,
the sound stays natural and warm, the way an old hard rock album should. The
mix keeps the guitars forward without burying the rhythm section, and
everything sounds genuine, as if recorded by a band that simply enjoys playing
together. The closing “1335 Reprise” ties the album together nicely, bringing a
nostalgic end to the journey.
“Out
Through The Door” is an album made for listeners who grew up loving classic
metal and hard rock melodies. It may not surprise but may to satisfy, and it
succeeds at that. Blaze delivers a mature
and passionate return that shows their dedication to a style that never fades.
It’s the kind of album you put on when you want to remember why heavy metal
felt so good in the first place.
Niphredil from Ecuador is a band built on
atmosphere and intensity. Their music walks a fine line between haunting beauty
and crushing despair, merging doom metal’s cavernous weight with black metal’s
melodic aggression. Founded with the vision of creating elaborate yet accessible
compositions, the band draws from literary and mystical imagery, making their
music both immersive and deeply reflective.
Their new
release, “Fractures In The Crystal Vault,” contains two tracks. “The Masked
Seer” and “Death By Dreaming.” Together they form a compact but expressive
listen, stretching across 13 minutes that cover a wide emotional and sonic
range. The band uses a combination of synths, programmed elements, and
traditional instruments to build soundscapes that feel vast, heavy, and
sorrowful.
“The Masked
Seer” opens with slow, suffocating doom passages, where guitars grind beneath
thick layers of atmosphere. The rhythm is ritualistic, and the synths move like
dark fog over the composition, adding a supernatural depth. As the song
progresses, the tempo shifts, revealing more melodic patterns that resemble the
melodic black metal influences Niphredil mentions,
Emperor and Altar
Of Plagues come to mind for the melodic phrasing and tension-filled
progressions.
“Death By
Dreaming” expands the vision further. It introduces tremolo-picked sections
that move with urgency, while the doom foundation remains underneath. The
vocals are harsh, distant, almost buried within the mix, giving the impression
of a voice lost inside the music rather than dominating it. The use of melody
here is more pronounced, where the guitars paint an emotional arc that fades
into ambience near the end.
The
production is raw but balanced. It keeps the sound organic and avoids
artificial polish, letting every instrument sit naturally within the haze. The
synth layers are especially well-placed, weaving through the distortion and
rhythm like echoes from another dimension. Even with programmed percussion the
flow remains human.
As a
release, “Fractures In The Crystal Vault” is compact but rewarding. Its 13
minutes leave a strong impression of what Niphredil
is capable of. Grand soundscapes, thoughtful compositions, and a focus
on atmosphere that never collapses into monotony. The music progresses with
intent, and even in its most oppressive moments, it stays engaging.
Niphredil has
managed to condense a wide creative vision, proving that intensity and depth
don’t depend on duration. “Fractures In The Crystal Vault” stands as a striking
example of atmospheric metal delivered with passion and imagination, a brief
descent into a world where sorrow, mysticism, and heaviness coexist naturally.
Formed in 2020, Heteropsy
comes from Japan and share members with Frostvore.
While Frostvore go for the straight Swedish
death metal sound, Heteropsy describes their
approach as “mourning death metal,” combining the heavy buzz of the Boss HM-2
pedal with the slow, dragging sadness of doom. Their sound mixes the bleak
atmosphere of bands like Autopsy and Rippikoulu with the melancholy of Switzerland’s Sadness and the violent edge of early Naglfar. After several short releases, “Embalming”
marks their first full-length album, released via Caligari
Records.
The eight
tracks that make up “Embalming” run for nearly fifty minutes and are drenched
in distortion and decay. The guitars are tuned to sound like machinery from a
forgotten age, grinding and humming through every riff. The drums stomp along
with a ritualistic pulse, creating a sense of repetition that suits the
death-and-decay theme. The bass hums beneath everything, adding weight to the
already oppressive sound. The vocals are buried deep within a tomb, as an
instrument within the chaos.
The
production captures the old Swedish style in its filthiest form, but it’s
handled with enough clarity for every element to sit together without blurring
into chaos. The guitars dominate the mix, buzzing like a swarm of insects over
an open grave. There’s a kind of cold sadness in the melodies that crawl
through “Asphyxia” and “Memento Mori,” while “The Sodomizer” and “Seventh
Damnation” lean on more traditional death metal aggression. The closer, “Old
Friends,” stretches near ten minutes, moving between dirge-like tempos and
sudden eruptions of faster sections, giving the album a fittingly grim
conclusion.
“Embalming”
sounds like a tribute to the death-doom tradition that rose from the Nordic
underground in the 90s, filtered through the strange precision of Japanese
musicianship. The atmosphere is heavy, mournful, and unrelenting, and doesn’t
rely on experimentation. Instead, it locks into its chosen path and follows it
with discipline. The result is an album that drags the listener through its
world of rot and sorrow, one slow riff at a time.
For those
who appreciate their death metal thick, cold, and steeped in despair,
“Embalming” delivers exactly that. It’s not an album with deep analysis but that’s
absorbed in a dark room, where the sound of decay becomes something grimly
mesmerizing. Heteropsy’s debut is a solid release
from a band that clearly understands the bleak power of death and doom merged
into one mass.
Formed in Münster, Germany, Außerwelt has been shaping their sound quietly
since the early 2010s through local shows and short releases that hinted at
something larger. Their debut full-length "Breath" delivers that
promise with precision and emotional gravity. This is a band that has learned
patience, allowing ideas to grow across years of rehearsal rooms and live
experimentation before committing them to tape. The four members—Manuel Klein (guitars, lead vocals), Kris Lucas (drums, piano, clean vocals), Meredith Schmiedeskamp (guitars), and Steffen Wolter (bass)—have built something deeply
personal and unmistakably their own.
"Breath"
unfolds as an immersive hour-long journey through heavy soundscapes that blur
the borders between genres. There’s a strong foundation in post-metal and
blackened textures, but Außerwelt color it
with progressive turns, restrained melodic touches, and moments of fragile
introspection. The contrast between the storm and the calm is central to how
the album works. It’s an experience designed for full immersion, not casual
listening.
The
production, handled in-house and finalized by Dennis
Koehne, gives the music a grounded power. The guitars surge in wide
waves, while the drums punch through with an earthy immediacy. The quieter
passages, piano and subtle atmospheric layers, draw the listener inward before
the heavier passages return like a tide. Nothing sounds overworked, there’s
honesty in how the music interacts, a presence that keeps the album alive.
Lyrically
and conceptually, "Breath" revolves around the act of breathing as a
metaphor for endurance, rhythm, and release. It’s not a rigid concept album,
but a reflection on how the simple act of inhaling and exhaling connects
survival to emotion. Across songs like “Old Dreams Of The West,” “Whiteout
Solace,” and “Eyes To The Sea,” the band moves from meditative calm to moments
of near-chaotic intensity. Every passage contributes to an atmosphere that’s
human and raw. Außerwelt uses heaviness not
just as aggression but as catharsis. There’s weight in the guitars, but also
space for silence and decay. The closing track, “In The Night’s Coating, We
Contemplate Hope,” stretches that idea further, balancing sorrow and renewal in
equal measure.
What gives
"Breath" its strength is not only its musical precision but its
emotional truth. It’s an album about persistence, resilience, and connection,
without falling into sentimentality. Außerwelt’s
approach to extreme music is mature and self-assured, grounded in experience
and introspection.
In a scene
often dominated by noise for its own sake, "Breath" speaks softly and
powerfully. It invites the listener to pause, to listen carefully, and to be
present within its world. Außerwelt has
created something that resonates beyond the genre, music that reflects
struggle, survival, and the strange calm in between.
Kyiv’s Vøvk returns
with their second full-length album, “Litera”, a concept-driven work that binds
together emotion, symbolism, and the raw pulse of Ukraine’s current era. The
trio has always balanced structure with emotional chaos, and this time they
sharpen that contrast through a story told in cycles, drought, fire, flood,
renewal, and back to drought again. It’s less an album of separate tracks and
more an emotional landscape shaped by shifting seasons and inner weather.
From the
first minutes, “Litera” opens like a ritual. The atmosphere is thick, driven by
earthy percussion and layers of guitar that feel organic and unforced. The
production by Roman Bondar (Lizard Audio, Kyiv) gives the songs a physicality,
every bassline hits with the pulse of a living organism, every drumbeat like a
heartbeat echoing in the soil. The sound is neither minimal nor overblown, just
dense enough to hold its weight.
Vøvk’s songwriting
walks a line between accessibility and experimentation. The band draws
inspiration from sources like Mastodon, The Mars Volta, and Deafheaven
but never mimics them. The songs rise and fall in unpredictable waves,
sometimes glowing with melody, sometimes dark and jagged. The rhythm section
holds everything together with a quiet precision, even when time signatures
twist in unexpected ways. The guitar lines act less as leads and more as moving
textures, guiding the listener through each transformation.
The
presence of guest musicians brings depth rather than decoration. Johannes Persson (Cult
Of Luna) appears on “Promin”, his deep voice adding gravity to the
song’s portrayal of perseverance and love for one’s homeland. “Okean”, with Anton Slepakov, closes the album in an
introspective tone, tying the story back to its beginning. The use of choir and
spoken word parts adds warmth and humanity, making the album’s concept feel
communal, not just personal.
This is not
an easy-listening album, and its rhythm is that of inner struggle, sometimes
repetitive, sometimes chaotic, always honest. What keeps “Litera” engaging is
its sense of movement. The awareness that destruction and rebirth are
intertwined. There are no grand conclusions, only cycles that keep turning,
like the seasons or history itself.
For a band
coming from a country living through war, “Litera” feels like a quiet act of
endurance. It’s poetic without being pretentious, heavy without being
oppressive. Vøvk has crafted an album that
speaks less through words and more through textures and emotions. It doesn’t
reach transcendence, but it remains deeply human, a mirror to the world’s
instability and a reminder that renewal always begins in silence.
Founded in 2009, Sceptor
has weathered an eventful history marked by lineup shifts, hiatuses, and
rebirths. Emerging from the German heavy metal underground, they’ve always
carried a traditional sound linked to names like Roxxcalibur
and Attacker. After a long break and
a strong comeback with “Rise To The Light” in 2021, “Wrath Of The Gods” finds
them again reborn, with new vocalist Florian
Reimann taking the mic after Bob Mitchell’s
departure. Released through Metalizer Records,
this third album comes across as a band standing tall after years of
challenges.
“Wrath Of
The Gods” runs for just under 40 minutes and sticks to the essentials of
classic heavy metal. The sound is grounded in galloping riffs, steady drumming,
and soaring vocals, leaning on the school of early 80s metal where melody and
aggression go hand in hand. The production keeps things straightforward and raw
enough to preserve a live energy, avoiding the plastic gloss that often kills
this style. Reimann’s voice is powerful,
somewhere between traditional metal, fitting comfortably within the band’s
direction.
Songs like
“Legion” and “Slave Of Power” deliver strong, catchy choruses and plenty of
guitar harmonies. “Hades & Zeus” adds a bit of epic atmosphere without
drifting into overblown territory, while “Demon Eyes” feels like a throwback to
the debut days, carrying that same pulse of early Sceptor. The guest appearance
of Nick Giannakos on “Slow Ride Into The
Sun” adds a nice guitar-driven spark, giving the middle of the album a lift.
“Poseidon” and “Throne Of The Damned” close things on a heavier, almost darker
tone, keeping the listener engaged until the end.
There’s an
honesty in the way the band plays. Nothing sounds artificial or forced, and
even though the album doesn’t surprise at every corner, it does what it intends
to do. To deliver solid, energetic metal with the right amount of melody and
aggression. The songwriting is compact and direct, with riffs that stick around
long enough to make an impact.
“Wrath Of
The Gods” might not reach the intensity of “Take Command!”, but it has a
veteran spirit and a revived energy that makes it a worthy addition to the
band’s catalog. It’s an album made by musicians who clearly enjoy what they’re
doing, and that alone gives it weight in today’s crowded scene.
Mephistofeles has carved their name deep into the
dark corners of the global doom underground. Emerging from Argentina’s stoner
scene, they built their reputation on sleaze, fuzz, and a dangerous sense of
psychedelia. Their sound is unpolished and narcotic, steeped in a love for
distortion and the occult. What began as a local curiosity quickly became an
international cult, and these reissues remind listeners where the legend began.
“Whore,”
their 2016 debut, is the raw ignition point. The production is as unrefined as
it gets, with guitars coated in grit and the vocals sounding like they were
summoned from a basement séance. It captures that dangerous charm of early
doom, when imperfections made things heavier instead of weaker. The tracks roll
through slow, menacing riffs and nihilistic lyrics about death, addiction, and
decay. It’s ugly in a beautiful way, like finding an old bootleg that sounds
cursed but alive.
By 2017’s “(
( ( I ' M H E R O I N ) ) ),” Mephistofeles had
found their groove in filth. The songs stretch out and become hypnotic, less
about structure and more about losing time inside repetition. The atmosphere is
narcotic, dragging the listener down into an endless spiral of fuzz and echo.
There’s a strange humor behind the madness too, as if the band is self-aware of
how depraved their trip has become. It’s no surprise that Jus Oborn from Electric
Wizard took notice, this album reeks of that same obsession with evil
blues and drugged-out ritualism.
“Satan Sex
Ceremonies,” released in 2019, is where the band fully drowned in their own
fog. The production is distant, warped, and suffocating. It’s the kind of doom
that sounds like it’s rotting while it plays. Long tracks like the titletrack
drag the listener through slow-motion horror scenes drenched in fuzz and analog
hiss. The overall experience is more trance than album, the kind of record that
could loop endlessly in a dark room while incense burns down to ash.
Taken
together, these three albums show Mephistofeles’
journey from primitive basement doom to something deeper and more narcotic.
They don’t aim for perfection or reinvention, they thrive on repetition,
heaviness, and bad taste. The sound is intentionally sick, the lyrics are
provocative, and the energy is addictive. Listening to these reissues feels
like rediscovering an unfiltered corner of doom history, loud, low, and
lawless.
“Whore,” “(
( ( I ' M H E R O I N ) ) ),” and “Satan Sex Ceremonies” remain documents of a
band that embraced chaos as a creative tool. Their reappearance on Heavy Psych Sounds brings back that filthy pulse
to a new audience ready to worship at the altar of distortion.
Formed in 2010 by Jan
Sallander and Peter Laustsen after
their time in Nox Aurea, When Nothing Remains has
spent over a decade crafting music that explores darkness, despair, and human
introspection. Known for blending doom and death metal with haunting melodies,
the band returned in 2025 with their fourth studio album, "Echoes Of
Eternal Night," released via The Circle Music.
Jan Sallander handles all vocals and
keyboards, while Peter Laustsen covers
guitars, bass, recording, mixing, and mastering, with contributions from Gogo Melone and Jonas
Toxen on selected tracks. The album continues the story introduced in
2016's "In Memoriam," following a young girl's journey through
isolation and existential reflection.
"Echoes
Of Eternal Night" is a deliberate, immersive album that slowly draws the
listener into its world. The opening track, "The Grim Reaper’s
Tears," immediately signals the emotional depth the band is exploring,
with vocals that shift between solemnity and intensity over somber guitar
lines. "A Glimmer Of Hope" and "Everything Ends" expand on
this approach, building long, layered compositions that carry a sense of
journey and reflection without feeling rushed.
The album
balances extended, introspective passages with more direct, concise moments,
such as "Our Final Hours" and "Gospel Of Apostasy,"
allowing the listener to catch their breath and absorb the weight of the
themes. "In The Woods Of Darkest Despair" is a brief but poignant
turn, highlighting Jan Sallander’s capacity
to convey narrative tension with sparse instrumentation.
Throughout
the record, the combination of Peter Laustsen’s
guitar work and the contributions from guest musicians adds texture to the
sound without cluttering it. The use of keyboards and subtle vocal layers
reinforces the album’s atmosphere, while the occasional shifts in tempo
maintain listener engagement. The lyrics, exploring mortality, human struggle,
and spiritual awakening, are clearly central, giving the album a sense of
purpose that makes it more than just music—it’s an experience.
The
production is clean and consistent, with a clarity that allows each instrument
to be heard in detail. The artwork mirrors the musical journey, showing the
girl’s passage from light into darkness, reinforcing the album’s narrative and
emotional scope. For those who appreciate doom-death music with a thoughtful,
story-driven approach, this album will hold attention from start to finish.
It’s not a record to rush through; it’s one to absorb over multiple listens.
Häxär is a one-man black metal project from
Switzerland, also active in Ernte. Since its
inception, Häxär has carved a niche in raw,
uncompromising black metal, mixing second-wave influences with a singularly
harsh, modern edge. With each release, the project continues to explore dark,
Alpine-infused atmospheres that are simultaneously aggressive and haunting.
“Teufelskult”
hits hard and cold from the first note, a relentless journey through thick
layers of tremolo riffs, blistering drums, and snarling vocals. The production
keeps a raw, jagged edge, giving the music a live, almost chaotic energy that
makes each track immediate and intense.
The album
moves between short, sharp bursts like “Götterdämmerung” and longer, more vast
assaults such as “Teufelskvlt,” showing Häxär’s
control over pacing and atmosphere. There’s a consistent tension running
through the songs, a feeling of dread underlined by eerie melodies and
dissonant harmonics. Vocals are harsh and urgent, cutting with precision, while
guitar lines are treble-heavy, weaving cold, piercing textures that linger long
after the tracks end.
“Teufelskult”
has moments of sheer, unrelenting aggression, with percussion and bass forming
a propulsive backbone that drives forward even in slower sections. There’s an
almost mechanical precision in the rhythms but never loses its organic bite.
Every song has a sense of menace, making the album like a complete release from
start to finish. The album works as a whole, a solid listen for fans of raw
black metal who appreciate intensity, raw energy, and dark, Alpine atmospheres.
Ten years after their last full-length, “Fragments”,
Dysentery returns with an album that smashes
expectations for brutal, slam death metal. Emerging from the shadows, the band
delivers music that is punishing, visceral, and meticulously crafted. Dysentery’s “Dejection Chrysalis” is a short,
explosive journey, barely tipping the half-hour mark, but leaving a
long-lasting impression.
The opener,
“Transference”, immediately sets a tone of mutation and transformation. It’s
concise, unsettling, and signals that you are entering a world where the
ordinary rules do not apply. The following tracks unleash the full force of Dysentery’s sound. “Enslavement For The Obedient,
Agony For The Wayward” hits with intense guttural vocals, dense guitar riffs,
and rhythms that connect with a primal part of the listener.
Throughout
the album, there’s a balance between relentless aggression and carefully
considered pacing. “Exhausted Bliss Of Self Loathing” delivers precision in
tempo shifts and blast beats while featuring Josh
Welshman’s guest vocals, adding an extra edge. “A Bestial Omen” is
almost physical in impact, with riff structures and rhythms that make you feel
the power in your bones. Later tracks like “Fratricidium” and “Ascend This
Harrowing Dream” continue the assault, with guitars, drums, and vocals
intersecting in ways that make the brutality feel structured rather than
chaotic.
Guest
appearances from Jared Weed and JT Knight add depth to the sound without
dominating the core. The mix and mastering by Randy
LeBoeuf bring out a heavy, punchy sonic quality, and the artwork by Hidris complements the album’s themes with stark,
imposing visuals. Dysentery manages to
sustain intensity across the short runtime while keeping the listener engaged,
and the album’s moments of groove and rhythm changes give it dimension beyond
pure speed and force.
For fans of
Putrid Pile, Internal
Bleeding, Guttural Secrete, and Pyrexia, “Dejection Chrysalis” delivers a focused,
punishing listening experience. It’s an album that not lingers too long but
leaves its mark, a testament to a band that has matured in its extremity over a
decade-long hiatus.
Formed in 1994, Abominator
is one of the earliest flag bearers of Australian black/death extremity.
The duo of Chris Volcano (vocals, drums) and
Andrew Undertaker (guitars) earned their
reputation through the '90s underground, releasing violent, chaotic, and
unforgiving works through labels like Necropolis and
Osmose. Their music has always carried a
kind of militaristic precision, balancing chaos with discipline, and “The Fire
Brethren” shows they’ve lost none of that edge.
After a
ten-year gap since “Evil Proclaimed,” Abominator sounds
like a machine that was dormant only to reawaken sharper. This album runs for
about 50 minutes of relentless, war-torn metal, mixing the early barbarism of
their demos with the sharpened aggression of their 2000s output. The
production, handled by Adam Calaitzis,
captures that volatile atmosphere; thick guitars, hammering drums, and a raw,
scorched tone that feels authentic to the band’s legacy.
“The
Templar’s Curse” opens the album in a storm of riffs and blast beats, setting a
furious pace that rarely drops. “Underworld Vociferations” and “Covens For
Azmodeus” continue this assault with fast, precise rhythm shifts and grim vocal
attacks that carry the same venom Abominator has
always delivered. Tracks like “Progenitors Of The Insurrection Of Satan”
stretch their sound into longer, ritualistic chaos, building layers of riffs
that churn like battle chants. “Desolation Epoch” and “Author Of All Calamity”
hit with more direct impact, while the closer “Sulphur From The Heavens” drags
the listener through apocalyptic fire, a grim march that ends the album with an
almost Bolt Thrower-like heaviness.
There’s a
consistency to “The Fire Brethren that sounds deliberate. The songs are
aggressive without being chaotic, brutal but disciplined. Every riff conveys
the intent of war metal’s old guard without drifting into disarray for the sake
of it. It’s the sound of veterans who know exactly what they want their music
to be, harsh, ritualistic, and steeped in the sulfurous atmosphere that has
always defined them.
Abominator return
not as relics of the past, it’s driven by the same violent pulse that kept
their sound alive since the '90s. Thirty years on, they continue to embody the
heart of Australian extremity, proving that some fires don’t fade with time, they
just burn deeper underground, waiting to erupt again, and “The Fire Brethren”
is that eruption.
