Another one that totally evaded my radar...
― bold caucasian eroticism (Simon H.), Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:04 (four years ago) link
a #1 vote!
― Oor Neechy, Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:06 (four years ago) link
#1 voters have been quite shy so far, barring an exception or two. Make some noise!
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:07 (four years ago) link
39Cerebral Rot - Odious Descent Into Decay 189 points, 6 votes
https://f4.bcbits.com/img/a1723117247_16.jpg
https://open.spotify.com/album/0Gm4wqXkQLiAfobb1G4Dthhttps://listen.20buckspin.com/album/odious-descent-into-decay
Look, you guys know by now what my deal is with death metal. I love that shit. Cannot get enough, ever. In many ways, it’s the perfect genre of metal: unusually tight stylistic constraints in terms of instrumentation, vocal style, production, and theme come together to form a musical, tonal, aesthetic language that prizes nuance, subtle variation, and a willingness to engage openly with the sound and aesthetics of the artists and albums of yore. Where some people hear unoriginal, uninspired, or lazy music, I, the wizened sage of Ough, hear bands that are proudly carving their own niche into one of metal’s most steadily-growing monuments. Cerebral Rot are the latest band this year to have me pondering and openly lamenting the fact that most people either don’t see it the way I do or don’t seem to care. Sure, the rising surge of death metal bands that are taking up the genre’s classic mantle is steadily growing into a filthy tidal wave courtesy of plenty of benefactors and gospel-spreaders similar to myself, but I still can’t help but be confused that other people simply haven’t let death metal into their hearts yet.Odious Descent into Decay may not change any minds or reach into the stony hearts of classic death metal’s ardent detractors, but by God, it should. Those people have no idea what the hell they’re missing. The record has the same sort of sonic legibility on its face as other 2019 albums like those of Fetid, Ossuarium, or Krypts. And, just as with its compatriots, Cerebral Rot betray to those with a keener, more learned ear the exact same deep and heartfelt knowledge of the forgotten, obscure, underground treasures that the internet has given all those with the curiosity to match their ability to stomach subpar production. Cerebral Rot are a fireworks display recognizing and honoring all those who bemoan the way metal journalists don’t give any of the deserved credit to their early-90s Finnish death metal demos of choice.
Cerebral Rot are the latest band this year to have me pondering and openly lamenting the fact that most people either don’t see it the way I do or don’t seem to care. Sure, the rising surge of death metal bands that are taking up the genre’s classic mantle is steadily growing into a filthy tidal wave courtesy of plenty of benefactors and gospel-spreaders similar to myself, but I still can’t help but be confused that other people simply haven’t let death metal into their hearts yet.
Odious Descent into Decay may not change any minds or reach into the stony hearts of classic death metal’s ardent detractors, but by God, it should. Those people have no idea what the hell they’re missing. The record has the same sort of sonic legibility on its face as other 2019 albums like those of Fetid, Ossuarium, or Krypts. And, just as with its compatriots, Cerebral Rot betray to those with a keener, more learned ear the exact same deep and heartfelt knowledge of the forgotten, obscure, underground treasures that the internet has given all those with the curiosity to match their ability to stomach subpar production. Cerebral Rot are a fireworks display recognizing and honoring all those who bemoan the way metal journalists don’t give any of the deserved credit to their early-90s Finnish death metal demos of choice.
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:17 (four years ago) link
Some solid doomy DM that I didn't vote for.
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:18 (four years ago) link
Andavald was my number #9. It's very melancholy for a BM record, which is what attracted me.
― Le Bateau Ivre, Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:22 (four years ago) link
my #9.
pretty much all i really need from dm
― gaudio, Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:25 (four years ago) link
Nice. This was somewhere in the 20s on my ballot. Really well done gross death doom. Will have to give Andavald another shot cause it did nothing for me on one listen last year.
― Judi Dench's Human Hand (methanietanner), Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:31 (four years ago) link
Surely you need to sink further into the sands of depression.
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:33 (four years ago) link
Sage advice :)
― Le Bateau Ivre, Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:35 (four years ago) link
Coming up: forkcore nigh disowned by the 'Fork.
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:35 (four years ago) link
coffin rot was my #9. cerebral rot was my#6. a rot mess, sry
― gaudio, Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:36 (four years ago) link
38Boris - Love & Evol200 points, 5 votes, 1 #1 vote
https://f4.bcbits.com/img/a0108178099_16.jpg
https://open.spotify.com/album/6nwy5F5CdGffhlA6BuQM6rhttps://boris.bandcamp.com/album/love-evol
https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/boris-love-and-evol/
New Boris albums once offered joyous upheaval and a sense of shock. At their best, and sometimes their worst, they ventured into whatever forms fit their loose-fitting creed of “Heavy Rocks.” Pink, one of the band’s early, essential breakthroughs, moved from the reinvented shoegaze anthem “Farewell” into wild-eyed D-Beat and squalid noise-rock, as if beating a gleeful retreat from perfection. Sure, there have been gimmicks and missteps along the way, but Boris’ restlessness has often been rewarding and contagious.But it is hard to muster much more than a shrug for LØVE & EVØL, Boris’ double-album debut for Jack White’s Third Man Records. LØVE & EVØL finds Boris at a strange career crossroads—or, rather, just beyond it. Three years ago, they recorded what was meant to be their farewell album but instead stumbled into Dear, their most ecstatic and aggressive LP in years. Boris sounded reborn, their vows renewed. LØVE & EVØL, however, suggests that the euphoria of this second honeymoon has faded. These seven anemic songs find Boris becoming something new yet again—self-satisfied.They remind us of a lot of their best tricks: Wata’s solos, like the one that leads the lumbering “LOVE” out of its torpor, still streak across these tracks like a rainbow somehow appearing against a moonless night sky—few guitarists sound so rapturous with a trick so simple. And in its ascendant second half, “EVOL” recreates the band’s most disorienting and beautiful effect—the ability to drop down in tempo, key, and distortion and still shoot for the stars, as if the rules of gravity have been temporarily reversed.
But it is hard to muster much more than a shrug for LØVE & EVØL, Boris’ double-album debut for Jack White’s Third Man Records. LØVE & EVØL finds Boris at a strange career crossroads—or, rather, just beyond it. Three years ago, they recorded what was meant to be their farewell album but instead stumbled into Dear, their most ecstatic and aggressive LP in years. Boris sounded reborn, their vows renewed. LØVE & EVØL, however, suggests that the euphoria of this second honeymoon has faded. These seven anemic songs find Boris becoming something new yet again—self-satisfied.
They remind us of a lot of their best tricks: Wata’s solos, like the one that leads the lumbering “LOVE” out of its torpor, still streak across these tracks like a rainbow somehow appearing against a moonless night sky—few guitarists sound so rapturous with a trick so simple. And in its ascendant second half, “EVOL” recreates the band’s most disorienting and beautiful effect—the ability to drop down in tempo, key, and distortion and still shoot for the stars, as if the rules of gravity have been temporarily reversed.
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:37 (four years ago) link
Yet another #1 vote.
Boris are generally too playful for me. Metal is serious business, folks.
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:38 (four years ago) link
I loved the opening track on this but the rest didn't seem to do much for me.
― bold caucasian eroticism (Simon H.), Thursday, 27 February 2020 14:45 (four years ago) link
Theyve hit an actual return to form over the past few albums and its great to hear. I think they've shed most of the fans they picked up with pink/smile as they aren't flavour of the month anymore and have got some of the older fans back with their releases over the past couple of years
― Oor Neechy, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:00 (four years ago) link
37King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard - Infest the Rats' Nest201 points, 6 votes
https://f4.bcbits.com/img/a0402916090_16.jpg
https://open.spotify.com/album/5Bz2LxOp0wz7ov0T9WiRmchttps://kinggizzard.bandcamp.com/album/infest-the-rats-nest-2
https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/king-gizzard-and-the-lizard-wizard-infest-the-rats-nest/
Heavy metal demands true devotion. It disdains the hipster tourist; it maintains purity through its own antifa(lse metal) movement; it requires that at least 85 percent of your wardrobe be given over to black band t-shirts. King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard, on the other hand, are non-commital by nature—the ever-mutating Aussie psych-rock outfit are synonymous with impulsive aesthetic shifts, resulting in a deep, frequently updated discography in which no two albums sound alike. But even by the Gizzard’s scatterbrained standards, 2019 has yielded two albums so diametrically opposed, you’d think one of them was mislabeled. Following the whimsical electro-glam boogie of April’s Fishing for Fishes, the Gizzard return with Infest the Rats’ Nest, an album that embraces the contentious stance that metal isn’t necessarily a way of life, but a passing mood we all feel from time to time.Infest the Rats’ Nest’s throwback thrash isn’t just a matter of Gizzard king Stu Mackenzie upgrading his favorite Lemmy band from Hawkwind to Motörhead; it’s a raging response to a world where even the most despairing UN climate reports barely make a blip. King Gizzard are no strangers to getting heavy, but Infest the Rats’ Nest is their most succinct and single-minded statement to date, presenting a vision of modernity where fleeing Earth to begin civilization anew in outer space looks less like sci-fi and more like docudrama. And when devising a soundtrack to imminent eco-pocalypse, drug-resistant disease, and furious contempt for the planet-killing powers that be, only the most merciless metal will do.With a handful of members tending to other musical and familial obligations, Infest the Rats’ Nest finds the Gizzard in a rare power-trio formation: Mackenzie is backed by fellow guitarist Joey Walker and drummer Michael Cavanagh. As a result, the album forsakes thrash’s technical precision and more grandiose, prog-inspired qualities for a gritty immediacy redolent of the genre’s early days. While jackhammer beats and gratuitous shredding abound, the album also shrewdly connects the dots between thrash and its ’70s-metal forebears: The murderous charge of “Planet B” (as in: “there is no”) peels down the asphalt laid by Deep Purple’s “Highway Star,” while “Mars for the Rich” mimics the bloozy, brontosaurus chug of Black Sabbath’s “Hole in the Sky.” But if King Gizzard’s take on thrash still bears their stoner-rock stamp—particularly on the sludgy “Superbug”—Mackenzie treats the occasion like heavy-metal Halloween, abandoning his natural singing voice for a Venomous bark that favors hook-free howls and minimalist rhymes (“Counterfeit! Hypocrite!”; “Auto-cremate! Self-immolate!”) to hammer home his doomsday prophecies. (Only lines like “shoot the dingo while the shit goes out the window!” remind you that you’re still listening to Australia’s most proudly absurd rock group.)
Infest the Rats’ Nest’s throwback thrash isn’t just a matter of Gizzard king Stu Mackenzie upgrading his favorite Lemmy band from Hawkwind to Motörhead; it’s a raging response to a world where even the most despairing UN climate reports barely make a blip. King Gizzard are no strangers to getting heavy, but Infest the Rats’ Nest is their most succinct and single-minded statement to date, presenting a vision of modernity where fleeing Earth to begin civilization anew in outer space looks less like sci-fi and more like docudrama. And when devising a soundtrack to imminent eco-pocalypse, drug-resistant disease, and furious contempt for the planet-killing powers that be, only the most merciless metal will do.
With a handful of members tending to other musical and familial obligations, Infest the Rats’ Nest finds the Gizzard in a rare power-trio formation: Mackenzie is backed by fellow guitarist Joey Walker and drummer Michael Cavanagh. As a result, the album forsakes thrash’s technical precision and more grandiose, prog-inspired qualities for a gritty immediacy redolent of the genre’s early days. While jackhammer beats and gratuitous shredding abound, the album also shrewdly connects the dots between thrash and its ’70s-metal forebears: The murderous charge of “Planet B” (as in: “there is no”) peels down the asphalt laid by Deep Purple’s “Highway Star,” while “Mars for the Rich” mimics the bloozy, brontosaurus chug of Black Sabbath’s “Hole in the Sky.” But if King Gizzard’s take on thrash still bears their stoner-rock stamp—particularly on the sludgy “Superbug”—Mackenzie treats the occasion like heavy-metal Halloween, abandoning his natural singing voice for a Venomous bark that favors hook-free howls and minimalist rhymes (“Counterfeit! Hypocrite!”; “Auto-cremate! Self-immolate!”) to hammer home his doomsday prophecies. (Only lines like “shoot the dingo while the shit goes out the window!” remind you that you’re still listening to Australia’s most proudly absurd rock group.)
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:12 (four years ago) link
Haven't heard this as I usually avoid stoner metal (probably because I'm not much of a stoner myself).
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:13 (four years ago) link
Can't stand this lot for some reason
― imago, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:13 (four years ago) link
I like them and this album is fun, but not more than that.
― bold caucasian eroticism (Simon H.), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:13 (four years ago) link
That awful band name, namechecking Motörhead, heavy metal and 'electro-glam boogie'.... Not touching this with a ten foot pole.
― Le Bateau Ivre, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:16 (four years ago) link
lol I don't blame you.
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:20 (four years ago) link
The sort of band who'll record an album inside of a week with absolutely minimal regard ot songwriting, have some sort of weird tuning, and put the word 'microtonal' in the fucking album title like they just invented it. I'm sure they're freaks but they're really annoying freaks
― imago, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:21 (four years ago) link
As an aside, it's kind of amazing how averse I am to 'heavy metal' in general even as I worship Sabbath.
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:21 (four years ago) link
wE dId A mETaL aLbUm!
― imago, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:22 (four years ago) link
There's plenty of gems/jams scattered across their albums. They seem to thrive on limitations and concepts as frameworks to compose in/around, which is totally fine. I just didn't think this was a standout album for them.
― bold caucasian eroticism (Simon H.), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:24 (four years ago) link
I'm being harsh. They did that one good psych pop song early on at least
― imago, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:25 (four years ago) link
Sund4r is definitely behind this one…
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:29 (four years ago) link
36Glenn Branca - The Third Ascension203 points, 6 votes
https://f4.bcbits.com/img/a1165242204_16.jpg
https://open.spotify.com/album/5a1XfxTK4jgBJ8E3X1xvODhttps://glennbranca1.bandcamp.com/releases
https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/glenn-branca-the-third-ascension/
“There are very few animals that kill their own kind.” Avant-garde composer Glenn Branca often began interviews with bleak screeds on human existence. “We’re vicious, psychopathological beasts,” he said in 2011, referring to our planet as a “disgusting shithole.” It was easy to take one look at Branca, drink in hand and perpetually smoking, and think you had him figured out. It was even easier to hear his vitriolic compositions and find them oppressive and terrifying, as John Cage famously did in 1982. But there was always an armored optimism in Branca’s work that suggested: If we can get lost in this maddening sound, we might be able to transcend our shared shithole, if only for a moment. With Branca’s final work The Third Ascension, released a year and a half after he died of throat cancer, the composer and his ensemble take the familiar instruments of a rock band and transform them into machines of calculated pandemonium, whose noise is so merciless it’s blissful.The concluding entry in his Ascension series, The Third Ascension premiered at New York’s famed art space the Kitchen in February 2016, where Branca and his ensemble were recorded for this very album. Branca, dressed in his trademark black duster and slacks, flailed around the stage as he conducted for bass, drums, and four guitars (one of which was played by his wife, Reg Bloor). His movements were spasmodic, and he occasionally shimmied his hips like a beleaguered Elvis. He grumbled between songs, brief quips about the best hot dog he’d ever eaten, or a dig at John Zorn. He kept his sheet music in a plastic shopping bag, which, if memory serves, had a yellow smiley face on the front. It was the only concert I’d ever been to where earplugs were forcefully handed out at the entrance, like safety goggles at a gun range.Branca was known to say that if you didn’t like loud music, you shouldn’t bother with his. At live performances, you had no option regarding volume. When it comes to his albums, you unfortunately do. But heed the man’s words: The Third Ascension should be played at full blast, neighbors and landlords be damned. One of the most exhilarating aspects of Branca’s music is the amount of aural hallucination it inspires—a frequent side effect of listening to his work is hearing things that aren’t really there. “The Smoke,” a 16-minute odyssey that kicks off like the opening credits in a western film, eventually bursts into a fit of distortion, and it appears as though a synthesizer simulating gale-force winds has been added to the mix. On closing opus “Cold Thing,” Branca’s guitar quartet sounds like a squad of machine guns firing at point blank range, and yet the continued roar somehow registers as distant screaming, air raid sirens, and a choir of angels all at once.
The concluding entry in his Ascension series, The Third Ascension premiered at New York’s famed art space the Kitchen in February 2016, where Branca and his ensemble were recorded for this very album. Branca, dressed in his trademark black duster and slacks, flailed around the stage as he conducted for bass, drums, and four guitars (one of which was played by his wife, Reg Bloor). His movements were spasmodic, and he occasionally shimmied his hips like a beleaguered Elvis. He grumbled between songs, brief quips about the best hot dog he’d ever eaten, or a dig at John Zorn. He kept his sheet music in a plastic shopping bag, which, if memory serves, had a yellow smiley face on the front. It was the only concert I’d ever been to where earplugs were forcefully handed out at the entrance, like safety goggles at a gun range.
Branca was known to say that if you didn’t like loud music, you shouldn’t bother with his. At live performances, you had no option regarding volume. When it comes to his albums, you unfortunately do. But heed the man’s words: The Third Ascension should be played at full blast, neighbors and landlords be damned. One of the most exhilarating aspects of Branca’s music is the amount of aural hallucination it inspires—a frequent side effect of listening to his work is hearing things that aren’t really there. “The Smoke,” a 16-minute odyssey that kicks off like the opening credits in a western film, eventually bursts into a fit of distortion, and it appears as though a synthesizer simulating gale-force winds has been added to the mix. On closing opus “Cold Thing,” Branca’s guitar quartet sounds like a squad of machine guns firing at point blank range, and yet the continued roar somehow registers as distant screaming, air raid sirens, and a choir of angels all at once.
I haven't heard it yet, but it's on my list.
Papier Mâché Dream Balloon! <3
― tangenttangent, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:30 (four years ago) link
I knocked it off my ballot for some reason I can't recall, but have no qualms with it showing up here. RIP
― bold caucasian eroticism (Simon H.), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:31 (four years ago) link
yup sund4r is responsible for this, hurrah!
― Oor Neechy, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:31 (four years ago) link
My #10. Probably listened to it the least of all the albums I voted for, but it's memorable, and great.
― Le Bateau Ivre, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:36 (four years ago) link
the album cover is definitely metal enough for entry
― american bradass (BradNelson), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:42 (four years ago) link
Very true.
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:43 (four years ago) link
35Witch Trail - The Sun Has Left the Hill204 points, 5 votes, 1 #1 vote
https://f4.bcbits.com/img/a0766589755_16.jpg
https://open.spotify.com/album/2tp9Fj7RuhOmXcA1O8ipOthttps://witchtrail.bandcamp.com/album/the-sun-has-left-the-hill
https://grizzlybutts.com/2019/11/15/witch-trail-the-sun-has-left-the-hill-2019-review/
Punks don’t just happen upon enlightenment, right? The long-standing tradition of the reactionary flinging their body, and ‘self’, into the fire of psychedelics when seeking relief from any congealed societal ache is yet upheld by virtue of the unchanging brutality of existential dread. Far beyond the greenest corner-of-the-eye shade an irascible venture into psilocybin could provide, the isolation and disconnection provided by these substances manifests most wildly in complete darkness; The biggest picture relatable to the species, poisoned and projecting into invisible worlds, comes when the astral-viewer reaches the frozen void of space where the war between light and darkness is proven hopeful fable and an antiquated notion of men. Without this great dilation of all senses the defiant will forever be the shortsighted warrior of the light, the underdog reactionary; A furiously shitting ostrich eating with his head tucked warmly in his own pile. Where does this ‘enlightenment’ come, then? Do we mourn the grey area, as the light goes to die? By law, it is the only truly proven constant. Do we grasp and hug this old concept of ‘nothingness’, bite down on the strap, and cease all meaning? Cease to see the wars of everyday life as anything but the absurd, fractally-sprouting nonsensical downward spiral it is, you fool, and bear down on the darkness. The only question left, in my mind at least, is what to do with the mind while the body is burnt to a crisp amidst the impending suffocation-by-fire of all mammals on Earth? The cause of all suffering is greed. Somewhere in the midst of this 30-minute psychedelic post-blackened post-punk record from Ghent, Belgium wunderkind Witch Trail hashes at least some of the best answers out, first through brain-bursting genre defiance and then by way of its equally shot-gunned concept.There is an end to suffering. The pains of growth end physically here, where a grand metamorphosis is complete by way of Witch Trail successfully crossing the pale from morbid thrashing metalpunk maniacs (‘The Witch’s Trail‘, 2013) to a post-black metal act toying with post-punk and noise rock ideas (‘Thole‘, 2016). Their sound at that point was akin to modern atmospheric black metal groups from the Netherlands such as Iskandr, Wiegedood or Fluisteraars but their style was relevant to the atmospheric lilt of ‘Sweven’-era Morbus Chron and thereabouts (see: “Residue”) thanks to persistent psychedelic wanderlust that’d build toward pointed and intense post-rock and/or post-punk songwriting. There are no comparisons to be made with ‘The Sun Has Left the Hill’ and its tenfold expansion beyond that breakthrough– It is a one-of-a-kind headpiece crowning Witch Trail alone, beyond any poe-faced post-black metal creatives who’d never thought to be this bold with their sound design. They’re still a punk band, though, and it warrants pointing out that this gaunt Ghent-based trio are healthily kicking out a mutated modern noise/post/indie-rock level of songwriting throughout their second album and all of the riffs are designed to hit the ground running; A jaggedly directional spontaneity only amplified by a distinctly psychedelic glass-shattering guitar sound that doggedly characterizes the shifting mood of ‘The Sun Has Left the Hill’. Despite the massive doubling down on ‘hipster’ black metal aesthetics, Witch Trail avoids even a whiff of this last decade’s obsession with the crescendo-thickened post-metal style currently infesting every weary corner of extreme metal thanks to an avoidance of typical black metal rhythm; It will inevitably be labeled as ‘black n’ roll’ by many because of this.
There is an end to suffering. The pains of growth end physically here, where a grand metamorphosis is complete by way of Witch Trail successfully crossing the pale from morbid thrashing metalpunk maniacs (‘The Witch’s Trail‘, 2013) to a post-black metal act toying with post-punk and noise rock ideas (‘Thole‘, 2016). Their sound at that point was akin to modern atmospheric black metal groups from the Netherlands such as Iskandr, Wiegedood or Fluisteraars but their style was relevant to the atmospheric lilt of ‘Sweven’-era Morbus Chron and thereabouts (see: “Residue”) thanks to persistent psychedelic wanderlust that’d build toward pointed and intense post-rock and/or post-punk songwriting. There are no comparisons to be made with ‘The Sun Has Left the Hill’ and its tenfold expansion beyond that breakthrough– It is a one-of-a-kind headpiece crowning Witch Trail alone, beyond any poe-faced post-black metal creatives who’d never thought to be this bold with their sound design. They’re still a punk band, though, and it warrants pointing out that this gaunt Ghent-based trio are healthily kicking out a mutated modern noise/post/indie-rock level of songwriting throughout their second album and all of the riffs are designed to hit the ground running; A jaggedly directional spontaneity only amplified by a distinctly psychedelic glass-shattering guitar sound that doggedly characterizes the shifting mood of ‘The Sun Has Left the Hill’. Despite the massive doubling down on ‘hipster’ black metal aesthetics, Witch Trail avoids even a whiff of this last decade’s obsession with the crescendo-thickened post-metal style currently infesting every weary corner of extreme metal thanks to an avoidance of typical black metal rhythm; It will inevitably be labeled as ‘black n’ roll’ by many because of this.
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:48 (four years ago) link
Awesome stuff. Went from never heard to very high on my ballot in the last day or so before voting
― imago, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:49 (four years ago) link
Another #1 vote! I didn't give this a proper chance and I don't know why, since the reviewer namechecks Iskandr, Wiegedood and Fluisteraars (the latter's new album is coming out tomorrow btw).
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:50 (four years ago) link
woah, no idea what this is
― bold caucasian eroticism (Simon H.), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:50 (four years ago) link
I gotta say, I'm fairly surprised by rankings and results so far.
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:51 (four years ago) link
Yes!! Thanks to DAM for this. Heard a few days before the poll deadline, straight in at #8 on my ballot. Fuzzy punk bm with lots of character
― tangenttangent, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:51 (four years ago) link
Haven't heard it, but definitely will, mainly due to the namechecks Pom already mentioned.
― Le Bateau Ivre, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:51 (four years ago) link
The track Afloat is a monster
― imago, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:54 (four years ago) link
my #1!
it really is uncategorizable
got some traction in the branca metal thread, didn't expect it this high, tho. shout outs to the other 4 voters
― gaudio, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:55 (four years ago) link
gaudio becoming the go-to post-punk-metaller between this and Reveal
― imago, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:58 (four years ago) link
gaudio's main poll ballot was awesome
― tangenttangent, Thursday, 27 February 2020 15:59 (four years ago) link
Or nominations in this maybe...I can't remember. Something was good
― tangenttangent, Thursday, 27 February 2020 16:00 (four years ago) link
I concur. 'gaudio' is a remarkably un-metal moniker, though. ;)
― romanesque architect (pomenitul), Thursday, 27 February 2020 16:01 (four years ago) link
Also that might be my favourite album cover of the rollout so far
― imago, Thursday, 27 February 2020 16:02 (four years ago) link