DOPPELGANGERS XXX

 In a web of reanimating the (un)dead descends an electrifying Speed Metal assault. Thunder ripping NWHOBHM, with G.B.H. totting (a stout reminder of Punk's importance to Metal), oranges waving, Thrash laced Hi-gh—an outlet for denim and fucking leather.

  Bonus: Wheels.

—Hi-gh
—Murdeath

MUSRUM (ERIC THACKER, ANTHONY EARNSHAW)

 From what the Mad Mane Machine has gathered, Musrum is a highly valued cult book. Considerately, that can be an apex for wrapping up book blogging—especially when a sought after style is nowhere to be found, few entries later. It would be doing the book much worse than good. Shit.

  Schizophrenic and experimental writing—these have managed to be checked before. Musrum ticks the weird-and-phenomenal-without-even-trying box. Reinstating all belying preconceptions towards meaninglessness, implied meanderings, and conclusive misconceptions. The existential world of Musrum. It may convince it is the opposite of a mind trip, yet its realization is an inimitable directory of how not to impose anything. As a rule, it just is—minus mere existence.

  For one, Musrum is a stretcher upon its course. There is a set of images eloquently re-arranged to match the written counterpart of its deranged and determined stylistic humour. The amount of logo creations up-fronts the number of word creations. Many of them recall to the Metal genre; where funly, they were related—as follows—to various sub-genres to an almost astounding precision.

Cover (07) — Death Metal. Very Morbid Angel distortions

COLUMBUS ... (09) — Occult Doom Metal/any tribal variation. Woodcraft and symbology

THE ATTIC (15) — Stoner (Doom). Thick text in the vein of Sleep

THE IRON CASTLE (19) — Progressive Metal. Sharp/defined symmetry (far from Thrash's)

THE EXPLORATION OF THE WORLD (32) — Atmospheric Sludge Metal. Coastline/Island indenting . . . since Pirate Metal is not really a genre. . . .

THE WEEDKING'S PLOT (37) — Raw/Atmospheric Black Metal. Fucking Groot

THE PURSUIT BEGINS (41) — Post-Metal. Cresting with wavelines/rendering to softness

IN ODESSA (52) — Avant Garde Metal. A funny 'mess' of objects living and non-living

MUSRUM  A PROLOGUE OF BANNERS — Gothic Metal

MUSRUM'S PLAN TO UTILIZE THE INDUSTRIAL SUBURBS OF THE ESTATE AS AN ARSENAL (69) — Brutal Death Metal heavy on Hardcore/Sludge Metal. Not very stylized, solid font. (Borderline Grindcore)

WHEEL-LORE (72) — Speed Metal. Thrash-like precision meets arrows

THE TREE TELEGRAPH (80) — Depressive Suicidal Black Metal. Trees; Pines in particular

PRINCIPLES OF FLOWERLIGHT (82) — European Power Metal. (Sun)Flower power

THE ELDER TREE (93) — Grindcore. Nasum spikiness with talons. Sweet perfection

PREPARATION AT THE CAMP (97) — Industrial Metal. Wtf  moment as human limbs spell it out

THE ISLE THROUGH THE WOODS (104) — Experimental Dark Metal. Which really is  Industrial Black Metal

THE MUD CASTLE (107) — (Progressive) Groove Metal. Ahem! Toning down/up from (19). The whole logo realized anew as a block

Unnamed (109) — Duckcore. Thank you so much Metal Duck. This would be limbo

THE IMITATION GARDEN (112) — Drone Metal. Beating dunes eaten by time? Fascinating arrangement

FEAR, AFFLICTION - AND STRANGE HOPE (124) — Technical Death Metal. A die; no cast—Hexahedron with impressions/layers

SPOILS OF WAR (129) — Experimental? taken. Avant garde? taken. How do genres start? Not cheating here . . . Boris belongs somewhere?

THE TRIUMPHANT RETURN TO INTERSOL (133) — (Viking) Folk Metal. Through a rugged mapping and sea-faring arises the the nation (and title)

SECOND MOVEMENT: BELLA: LA DAME GENOVESE (134) — Love Metal (hark!). Arrow-shots to the hearts of sentimentalization

THIRD MOVEMENT: ALLEGRO (136) — That Byzantine Metal should be a thing? All above (134), in mosaic detail. Also deduct arrow. Right, Batushka exists

THE WEEDKING'S PLIGHT (151) — Crust loving Powerviolent Grind. Sells itself as Botanical Metal. Caterpillar's legs espouse the whole disappointing irony

THE WEEDKING'S FATE (155) — This sadly goes to Technical Brutal Death Metal. Fucking tech death heads horse-shitting the genre in alarming retardedness

DOPPELGANGERS XXVIII

 The way of the cenotaph. When viewing older DM band pictures, rampant graveyard shots pop up. In an effort to capture the spirit of the dead shift, below are monoliths of unhallowed spontaneity—kicking off with the most ghastly looking. Grey Mist delivers unhinged Doom, albeit touching on that aspect as Alunah extends on their most doomy—female vocals galloping too. Not far from where the Doom bands illustriously depict gargoyles and burial grounds sculpts. Wolf Dawn—the oddball here, is unrelenting blackened Speed Metal; which is enough to imply major ass kicking. Die already. . . .

—Misty Grey

—Veteris

SIGNIST (OF WORLDS, ENDTIMELY ENSHADOWED)

  The ouroboros is an enticing concept—ensnaring musicians and artists as a means of expression—metaphorically or ironically. Over-exposure's desensitization make end-users and targets almost immune to a reaction—especially this being the creator's point of concern. That is the much that can happen between 2005 and now, when the blueprint of Of Worlds, Endtimely Enshadowed was realized and articulated. Furthermore, the chained self-devouring snake portrays a continuum in stasis, something of a disheveling reality, accounting for self-begetting.

  Signist is an unforgettable name, incredibly significant where there are myriad bands left, right, and center. From Russia with pluck purpose to pulverize and perpetuate perdition to the rest of the (Metal) world. Largely cast on a Thrash Metal motif that stretches to Heavy Metal and barbaric Deathy Thrash—progressions and changes abound on a lot of the songs. Influences are worn aggressively such as a slight Punk pummeling—on track six—, technicality, and portional synth flourished atmosphere. Interestingly, it is the rhythm that channels the solos. Premonition of the Endless Night's placement was tactful. Other than splitting it into a short intro or insertion of one, the behemoth of cudgeling grooves is allowed to mature into a flounce, the first of a tenacious whirlgig—the kind that Wrust lashes unrepentantly—on an intracion of melodic rhythms which culminate into a Blackened lead, accompanied by blast beats. Played at a Spazmosity Blackened Death range. An acoustic shed follows, making up for the onslaught taking the listener off the nook at the start without warning.

  Stillborn Mind Reflection perpetuates a blackened infusion while track three revives the catchy, contoured and uncompromisingly conking grooves by the advent of Heavy Metal accompaniment. It wouldn't be surprising how much the guitars take center space, especially on this song. Only the 'spongy' cymbals—unluckily quite consistent once or twice—are its downside, including on Bells of Oncoming Winter, the longest and felicitously changing track. There is some featured singing as the album unravels while addition of a synthesized keyboard wells a Darkified feel—with some Post-Thrash occupations. 

  As marginalizing as their logo is—a Pagan/Viking oriented band?—any Power/Thrash cacophony?—it certainly is a pointer to the listener to heed expecting anything—especially to be blown away. With melodies that are almost epically inclined; progressive tincture and bent, its omnipotence forays the floridness abound in a gradual manner—a propitious sculpt on Thrash Metal's mould. A progressive Thrash Metal stomp where Lieveil meets Wrust.

DOPPELGANGERS XVIII

  Daybreak contributed this Powerviolence-heavy release to their God-tier split with The Ultimate Warriors; who deliver with massive Grindcore assault. As a lone offering, Convicted is the updated version of Cryptic Slaughter's . . . Convicted. In Grind we Crust!

—Powerviolence
—Crossover

DOPPELGANGERS XVII

  Fuck yeah Noise freaks. How about the closest resemblances an experimental Rap album could have to grimy, doomy, Swedeath? Perish by that shit. The curt angles of cassette reel and leaf mosaic. Only death is real. 

—Clipping
—Fange

DOPPELGANGERS XV

  Super Black Thrash from Celtic Frost and Death Metal by Resurrected propagate pieces by H.R. Giger—Satan I & elusive Satan II. Resurrected's is a desiccate and decrepit demon as per album title: Faireless to the Flesh.

—To Mega Therion
—Faireless to the Flesh

HORRIFIED (IN THE GARDEN OF THE UNEARTHLY DELIGHTS)

  Whichever congregation achieves much the herald of ripe sapience. Doom Metal is the oldster who crouches forth; where the seminal genres copulate to promulgate the eternal torch of Metal. Being there from the advent and managing to lay distanced. Be here a style that straddles high art and its limiting conformities.

  In the Garden of the Unearthly Delights features a mark between the mentioned outlines. tainting its presence with shades of either side; either a keenness on non indulgence; or a failure to make the decisive leap. Horrified counter forth with an orchestra of gloom. Forlonity is an aura that unfolds like the wings of the fallen. Elisaph's Death Doom guitars sear around an orchestra that provides a rhythm for the most part. Pulsating at its opening and closure.

  The first of dark melancholy instrumental breaks plow with non word hymns of a female vocalist. But not to sway into the opera kind, nonetheless, the only feature. Turns out the orchestra is an elastic band! Getting to Down at the Valley of the Great Encounter, anticipatory drums presage the climax—and how immense Death Doom should be about. An ambulation of instruments: From the dramatic drums; to the soaring Death Doom guitars; to the album's better growls. Taking the shape of the painting's polymorphs—well thought-out mutations—before coruscating and embodying a cross-breed itself; where an acoustic shed bleeds into a short flute composition. To play the devil's clarinet; an extended knows. This is another track that skirts with Black Metal.

  Horrified's ideas change oftenly, sometimes for the unfitting. 4 acoustics are a lot for a 39 minute record. Too many passages, where the triptych's main are 3. They even manage to teeter on raw melodic Death Metal, the old school kind, as they harken The Poetry of War.

The closing enchantment glides the sombre and solemn wake of drifting penance. The hoars: A L'enfer - la chute des damnés ; or L'ascension vers l'empyrée - le paradis portal. As the dead weight floats away, apart from the other Giger-esque cover.

THE SIGMATICLE TOUR GREEN (WELCOME TO THE FUTURE)

  Aboard the Rock 'n' Roll train. Compartments and striations, styles bleed through the hallways. Brooding. Delights, defiance, delineation. Two plus two and many others. Fueled by alco--COAL.

  Forging beyond the wagon to the space age. Every aligned star is calling. Ensnaring—Welcome To The Future / CUTE TOUR FLEW THEME / TROUT CUE FLEW THEME / OUT WHERE COMET FLUTE. Covered with pop-art ensemble. Like a cognizance of the dreary vocalizations of Remember Me / MERE MEMBER—slowly rising from the previous song Far Beyond / BEND OF RAY—and the tripped hoars from Star Gazer / ART GRAZES.

  I love Rock 'n' Roll, but like everyone, I get the blues. The drums took a backseat to a very watered-down Rock 'n' Roll sequence. Not far from programmed. Monophonic. Ignore for the fuzz, Down the Wire / DREW THEIR OWN / WORD HE TWINE perpetrated. These are the effects of incorporating influences to the extent of disregarding essentials. Some tracks could have been done away with, however an instrumentalist's play for fun that he decides to share.

  These gritty—a few—tracks could have been shooting for the stars. As the assemblage with Johnny B Goode. For Psychedelia diehards.

DOPPELGANGERS X

  Aaaaaah—nthrax! It's Scott Ian's (my favourite human) disbanded band. S.O.D. cannot deny their taking from S.O.B. And when around here, speak English or die!

—Grindcore / Hardcore
—Crossover

 

DEATH METAL—AVULSED

"Then it happened. With a crash of drums and a thundering bass, the sound of heavy-metal music came blaring from the loudspeakers."——Sweet Valley High.

  At least at this point in their career, Avulsed no longer consider themselves an underground act, which is a well deserved feat. This is one of the most competent bands to grace Death Metal so far. It is beyond overwhelming that a given album can go from Slam to Doom Metal so  fucking effortlessly! Gorespattered Suicide. . . .

  Oh slamophiliacs, Goresplattered Suicide, Yearning For The Grotesque have the covers begging for ingestion. And swedeath is the magnet that holds Avulsed's metal together. Ritual Zombi and Goresplattered Suicide have special moments of dragging guitar work drenched in atmosphere—sometimes achieved with keyboards. It shows the urgent need for further exploration of the same. And consequently, Famishgod! And this says a lot about Death Metal origins for incredible Death-Doom outfits——Hooded Menace.

  Dave Rotten. I will not obsess about his vocals. But I could never wish for less.

Inhuman vomits—The best in the business.

Subhuman topics/artwork.

Anti-human lyrics.

—I denounce my humanity.

  However, I have yet to see them come out with their own distinct, Avulsed sound. But it's still a journey. Alter Of Disembowelment is closer to being the identity they want to portray but damn goddamn, Avulsed kicks major ass.

BLEEDING EYES (GAMMY)

  Coming across a group called Bleeding Eyes, the chances of ignoring them are high. Add Metalcore to their Doom/Sludge tag, and that rises even higher. Well, not the present Bleeding Eyes; five albums later, although I'm not familiar with anything beyond their A Trip to the Closest Universe.

  Here is a sextet that greatly wields some of the main strains of Doom; Sludge, Stoner, and Psychedelic with this release from 2014. It kicks off with an instrumental that is an oversight to the record's overall sound: Doom  off-shoots  which  are  not   force-fed  i.e. every  root  has  its chance  to  relay the  music's  intention—invoking emotion by engaging its audience. Psychedelic fledgling into Doom, spiraling to Sludge, receding with psychedelia. 

  Most of the Psychedelic echoes and some effects in the record nod to if-we-were-a-space-rock-band. Like the other tracks, one style morphs into the other.

  Kevin's Space rams drum and bass (after cymbal) with sludge that shows their Metalcore origins. But there's an instrumental called Full Fledged! Starts with Stoner . . . Demon Haze produces a terrific Sludge riff, growing into a Doom overlay, if Lacrime Fiume Sangue Dolore or A Fistful of Dynamite did not Sludge-out enough.

  Closing with GAMMY, which has a commercial sample with heavy-ass unfolding tinged with psychedelia and picks pace before steeply falling into a droning passage to the end. How could the Vitruvian Woman move her legs after this? So game! As profoundly conveyed on the cover's art—Doom's penchant for isolated cabins that insinuate covens.

4.5/5 

THIS WAS A METAL PRAIRIE

 The wind is soaring swiftly. Coursing the land, coasting with serpentine slither. One that neither touches but on its sheer gliding weight the ears and leafs sway mono-directionally -- a sudden encompassing wave of roaring gust. But if they really do touch; one a breeze caressing the stalks and hairs as the airs fork between strands still merging from the splits; nobody sees it. Yet visibly alluring the unfolding effects.

  Until spirits from the netherworld are unleashed. An inanimate mosaic intertwined to protrusions of a lively spine. The heart of the spiraling machine. Firmly as put together by the seeds it sowed, and the fruits it reaped. The catch-22 it helped horn.

  Sometimes a hurricane emerges. Enough energy has been piled up. The howling void is whirling, pulling, tugging vulnerable flames. Building the ultimate fire and the belly finally gets tugged hard enough to release a sonic outburst. Gorging trenches and hellholes, upturning sods. Mangling the hay and the rusted needles.

  ...

  Bordering the north a fiord; with increased trudge, snow is no longer a sighting. First it's the subzero soils. Pebbles that see sun zero. Collecting patches and tracts until white engulfs all. The pines get lonelier and submit to dispersing. The sorrow is pictured by still monochrome clouds on fluid recurring crests, at-times-mist-engulfed lakes. The difference grays out with increased frost.

  Anchors of the steadfast ship spread the clawed tentacles into the deep reaches of the sea. Where years ago Viking ships rocked and pierced waves onwards to battlefronts. Leviathans became the guardians. How so! These ones were means of taming the wild. The Titan of them all. The demigod. It is not a myth.

  Further down draws warmth. Windy plains and buttes eroded to smoothness. Partly dustless at the plateaus with the flour sand particles pulled to the mire. Heavy as palm boughs sluggishly descending into the oasis. On still days, the smoke gets too thick to rise efficiently! The red vast-lands espouses its creatures come nightfall. This is not Mars.

  And suddenly the occult starts bending; once nightlife rears up. Astrology starts coalescing starlit auras with celestial measure. The secrets of the stars blending forth into the mystery. Onwards into the cosmos!

NECROBLATION (STAB YOUR SELF)

  

  On the ever progressive metal landscape, either a band greatly brings forth the traditional sounds of sub/genres or they are converging genres uncombinable—maybe deemed polar before. The latter is almost a filled gap as many a modern band is multi-faceted—even if a slight hint of their influences, with its pros and cons.

  Necroblation hails from the amalgamating side of metal. This is a Grind-peppered Thrash band with equal measure Death Metal—whose riffs at times evoke Woe Of Tyrants, given that both are thrash-riffing oriented. Not that it matters, but the two also happen to share religious stance.

  As a part grind machine, there are expectations of a fast-paced songwriting approach. Regardless of the excellent instances of ferocious display of energy, it is an aspect that the band does not completely fulfil. The furthest it goes to full grind is on Uncontrolled Rage. An apt title whose missive could be regarded as the album's breather; gutted between longer tracks.

  A portmanteau of "Necro" and "Oblation" that provides the bands name significantly unravels well with the sophomore's sleeve art—a proclamation of finally finding and coming to terms with their identity. Parallelly providing an altar at which fuzzily and not-so-clean production—that succeeds in laying a fantastic atmosphere—portrays the sonic proliferations at hand. Notably, the mergers are not as fledged out musically, as would be the case of bands that seek an onslaught of most of their influences in a single offensive—take A Crime of Passion. Necroblation rather achieves this by making their expressions stand alone. Both are ways that work out—while the former risks overwhelming the listener, and the latter provides a situation for surprises, not umlike jump scare.

  Child of Illusion comes out as the standout track—to apply the triviality of the word's literal sense—as it really is the record's magnum opus. Given the premises around this track, it easily qualifies as unconventional Black Metal. It is hazy enough to let souls wallow in the desired invocation; also applying a Black Metal convention, a bass drop that hits once the song starts. Considering the ensuing track, it is quite admissible Stab Your Self is more on straddling around genre staple, albeit with polished input, but not necessarily breaking new ground.

  This is a great walk-through across a number of sub/genres thrash holds together—from black metal to grindcore—with a stellar performance envisioned in the instumentals. To the convergence of sub/genres, good effort.

  3.5/5