Therefore, I share with you the greatest summertime song of all time.

Zwei Schwerter | artist: Gilgareth — A dungeon synth album that is afraid neither of progressive house beats nor arpeggiators. I will ignore the deployment of the word "doth" in setting the theme. Good music for a campaign – and part of an ever evolving set of tales and places evoked across nine releases of various size and scale. | 3 out of 5 stars

Catalyst | artist: Imrryr — Sawing synths and skittering drum machine patterns with toms and complex and overaturistic melodies (yes, I think Imrryr just helped me coin a new word) carry themes that occasionally will remind you of John Harrison's score to _Day of the Dead_. > Going back to the tragic story of a doctor trying to cheat death and origins of the black sludge. Many of you will know by now that I'm a huge fan of instrumental program music and other sorts of instrumental music that either have a narrative function or that ride alongside a great story. In _Catalyst_ , we have a wonderfully evocative implied narrative suggested through a proggy, but always compellingly melodic and meandering maze of meaning. Favorite piece: the enigmatic and elegiac slow tumble of chords that makes up "The Memories of His Father's Death Stayed With Him". It should be said that part of what makes this so compelling is that there is in the music a palpable sense of adventure and suspenseful action. The twists and turns of "He Hid in The Shadows and Watched on in Disgust and Disappointment" contain more cliffhangers than a Netflix series. And the ambiently aware "A Decision Had to be Made" makes it clear that this is no music for airports — unless you are being followed through the airport by armed men who aim to give no quarter to an errant (intentional word choice) scientist no matter that scientist's predicament. The closer, "They All Must Die", brings us full circle (maybe in more ways than one). Throughout, and in a listen to the album's companion piece — _Errant_ — as well, I found myself leaning closer to the speakers. Like you lean closer to the pages of a book. Like when you feel closer to the world in there than the world out here. | 4 out of 5 stars

Missed publishing the last two days as we've been in the studio finishing up the mix and mastering of the third Towerhouser album. In this part of the ongoing Dungeon / Fantasy Synth series, we get more than a bit beat-driven. Downright funky, if you ask me. Plan is to release this one over the summer. And with Solstice approaching, that means we're pretty darned close.

Mean Bone | artist: Buzzard — "Good evening, sir. How about some fuzzy doom from Massachusetts?" "Why yes, that sounds splendid. I'll have one of those." A half-hour later. "Your Buzzard, sir." I dig in to find a fuzz-faced melange of bassy riffing with a nose of slightly-swingy drums. Political speech not unlike the beginnings of doom in, well, "Hand of Doom". Pounding, but dry those drums. Warm and cozy, those riffs. I'm not initially keen on (what appears at first to be) a plainish vocal delivery, but then you get a couplet like... > Knuckles dragging on the ground, > Creationists arch a unibrow And you just let it slide. Actually, let's not let it slide for just a second. I'm listening to the voice of Christopher Thomas Elliott and I'm searching for who that voice reminds me of. And then it strikes me that there is a certain International Artist feel in it. More specifically, it reminds me of a slightly less twangy George Emerson Kinney whose vocals on the Power Plant album (1968) is one of the lesser keys of Texas psych. Whereas sometimes Kinney gets into a bit of Brit worship (which he loses post psych), Elliot feels more comfortable in his own accent. But I'm liking that comparison. Back to the album. Liking the Iommi worship blended with some tactful open-tuned acoustic slide on "Changeling". > You look the same > But you're not my baby It's an apt description of the music, the feel, maybe the project as a whole. Where everything is both familiar and not at all familiar. The lyrically sprawling "Ghost of Orphan James" gets at a certain kind of Americana-laced-with-doom. And this is where I make a ridiculous comparison that makes no sense, but I find my ears wandering to the Americana-gypsy songwriter sound of fellow New Englanders Alec K. Redfern and The Eyesores. I think its the kind of ache that can exist in those sorts of plainish (what a terrible word, and here I am using it again) voices. But there is something else in the plainish voice. Elliott describes this music as Doom Folk — and while it's easy (and lazy) to describe the fuzzy doom riffs (as I have done earlier), it's more difficult to consider this music in the context of Folk. And that's where these lyricisms lay. "Twisted Love" could have been sung by Mark Eitzel. The stories of American hypocrisy could have come out of the Denver gothic country scene. Once you get into the lyrics — I mean really into the lyrics — it takes the riffs to sometimes shake you out of them. And then "Dunwich Farm" upends Dylan — and it all becomes clear. Because there is a long tradition of plainish-voiced political troubadours from Woody to Phil that upends the concept of the "performer" and replaces it with the "prophet" or the "conscience". That's the tradition that Elliott lives in. And Elliott shows — without showing — that doom is just a part of that. And that's something worth considering. | 3.75 out of 5 stars

The Majestic End | artist: Ghoëst — I just listened to the album _Faith_ by the Cure because I needed to listen to a pick-me-up feel-good fun-time record after hearing the new Ghoëst. | 2.75 out of 5 stars

Feather and Claw | artist: Owlbear — Owlbear gets right to it. This is bedroom poster metal (in the best possible way to think about such a description) and it fully holds its own against any of the scotch-taped poster bands of a previous era. Proving that the galloping beat is the mightiest beat in all of Heavy Metal, _Feather and Claw_ opens up in early-mid Maiden territory musically — with lyrics pulled maybe from more continental sources. > I rush towards destiny, my oath I cannot fail, > My word unwavering as weapons clash and arrows hail The production lets the rawness through, the melodies keep everything moving along, and the solos bear the right amount of flash without being prodigious and precious. There is more than a hint of 90s European power metal in the second track, but the song itself somehow keeps from falling fully into that quicksand. Instead, there is something rougher going on here. And that roughness just explodes in the brilliant third track "Crawl from the Carcass". I spent a lot of time in heavy metal bars in the late 80s and pre-_Nevermind_ early 90s (mostly on account of lax underage drinking policies). And a song like "Crawl" is exactly the kind of thing that would have fired up the late night crowd ready to see Kix. I'm really glad to see this take on Trad Metal. So often, and indeed in Owlbear's oeuvre, the touchstones are NWOBHM and Germanic power metal. To hear such a celebration of late 80s Hair Metal is actually amazingly refreshing in the year two-thousand and twenty-five. Other album highlights include the wonderful Electric Mistress intro of "Song of the Grey Witch", the groovy accented crunch of "Wild Shape" and it's sped up Priest-like chorus (you know the sort — with the long drawn out sustaining power chords at the start of each measure), the nice power ballad fake-out intro into the blazing "Devastation Be My Name" and the galloping thrash (small "T") of the post-chorus sections, and Katy Scary's masterful vocals throughout. > Up from the ashes power burning deep within my heart > Strength of fallen gods now courses through me Indeed, Katy. This album doesn't just build on the band's prior studio engagements — this feels like a significant move forward. And goddamn if it ain't fun. | 4 out of 5 stars.

NEVER ENOUGH | artist: Turnstile — I can remember a contemporaneous review in MRR saying that Lungfish had gone soft — saying that "Creation Story" from 1993's _Rainbows from Atoms_ was nothing more than a bad U2 song. It is, of course, something of a tradition going back to the original Hardcore and first-generation post-Hardcore bands that as soon as the clean electric guitar or the melodic yell (as opposed to the pedantic shout) kicks in, you are nothing more than soft. Or even worse, a sell-out. In 2015 the P-Funk All Stars played Baltimore's outdoor Artscape Festival. Set up on stage at the art school, in front of the old railroad depot, George Clinton and company tore through a set of hits and brought that Baltimore crowd to life. And they needed it. This was the summer of 2015. Only months prior, in April of 2015, the Baltimore Uprising — in response to the death of Freddie Gray in police custody — had occurred. The P-Funk show was the first time since the events of April that the people of Baltimore had come together in what was apparent to anyone there as a sort of communal release. A few weeks ago, in the wake of everything happening in the US, a big crowd came together in Baltimore for another release of emotion, this time in Wyman Dell — a green space nestled just south of the Homewood campus of the Johns Hopkins University. Earlier in the day, bands had played at the outdoor Remington Festival, just several blocks from the Dell. Occasional lampposts along the way were plastered with a flyer that said that Turnstile would be playing a free show in the Dell at 6pm. 10,000 people showed up. Baltimore again came together in a show of communal release. Turnstile's new album — NEVER ENOUGH — is a lot of things. And a lot of people will have a lot of opinions about it. In that its shifting rhythms, exuberance, and sense of being (I can think of no other way to describe the co-mingling of complete confidence and total vulnerability) the album represents a distilled variety of hope and a feel for _making the personal the communal_ — this is the most hardcore thing of all and it is the band's greatest accomplishment. The rippers are here — the front side of SUNSHOWER is a highlight of that color on Turnstile's template. But it is the glowing arcs of light that beam across and through tracks in the form of pads and ambience and flickering delays that play on the emotions — these ambient passages do the work of the dramatic set up. And they represent a kind of thoughtfulness and attention to mood that lets the resultant climax — such as the feral frontside of LOOK OUT FOR ME — fully blister. This is an evolution from what emerged from the last album, and in this ebb and flow between bombast and ambience, pitched yell and conversational speech that can have the effect of putting memory front and center, it presents a more whole vision and allows the music to envelope and fully wrap around the community. The nod to Baltimore Club kick patterns (rhythms which have always been either under the surface or in the parallel awareness of the best Baltimore "rock music" bands since at least the early 90s) further cements Turnstile as not just a band, but something of a representative of a certain way of thinking about the relationship between the music we all make, listen to, fall in love with, and struggle over and the broader context — in this case a city, a history — in which everything exists like concurrent waves of car radio emanations collaging over a summertime traffic jam. SEEIN' STARS lays it out further with a hint of Future Islands and a bit of some of the poppier lost gems from the Baltimore underground such as the 80s inflected White Life. That this leads into the throatpunch of BIRDS only heightens the vitality of each end of the spectrum. More than anything — amongst all of the melody, hooks, grind — there is a connection waiting to happen here. It is available if you want it. If you don't want to tap into it, whatever. Your choice. If you don't get it, that's on you. Because by the time that the pop propulsion of TIME IS HAPPENING has ended and the elegiac MAGIC MAN has ushered you out of the theater, this album will have become a touchstone album for so many of those who are willing to connect. Who need to connect, not just with this music but with one another. Communally. Like strangers in a big field showing up to hear the heavens open up and maybe have some fun in revolt against all the pain and chaos. This is one that people will talk about in 20 years and in talking about it will remember something about themselves long forgotten. | 5 out of 5 stars.

I want to talk very briefly about one of my favorite albums of all time, sort of in prep for what we'll be publishing tomorrow. The album is Rainbows from Atoms and the band is Lungfish. It was released in the summer of 1993 on Dischord Records. And it broke our collective mind. At that time, Lungfish used to rehearse in a space adjacent to a studio run by a few friends in an old warehouse in Baltimore. Many a night I spent just hanging out on the steps in the stairwell outside the studio space listening to them rehearse. But nothing prepared the ears for what was to come when they debuted the songs from _Rainbows from Atoms_ in Baltimore. It was at a hole-in-the-wall called The Rev just off North Ave at Maryland Ave. The songs were mesmerizing and the packed crowd just swayed in unison like some kind of colony of amoebae. At one point, a PA speaker literally caught on fire and frontman Daniel Higgs raised his voice, stood at the front of the small stage, and sang loudly enough to be heard over the whole band. I hate to use the word magical, but it was, well, magical. The album begins with an anthem and then goes into a series of sketches and character descriptions of the kinds of personalities that you would have met in Baltimore in the early 90s. Interspersed are visions of the beginning of time, conversations over coffee, and heads-up warnings from the streets of Baltimore. It was a world filled with fears and a world filled with possibilities. No one was famous. Everyone was vulnerable. Plenty of folks never made it out. > Learned to count by match light > Nourished by a simple plastic bag > The material of ghost shoes > Sought like saffron > And pounded so small > That bird neck landing > And the tears of its wings landing > Learned to read by a ration of light > Nothing comes to the faithless firsthand > Yet all we crave won't save us > On the other side > Don't let your left hand know > What your right hand is doing > Don't let your right hand know > What your left hand is going through Baltimore has changed since 1993. But somethings don't change. It's still a city of people who are doing more-than-surviving under the surreal spell that has always seemed to entrance the city. It is a place vibrant with an insane kind of light. But its also a city where you still shouldn't let your right hand know what your left hand is going through.

I’ve always liked Philip K. Discs. Beyond being purveyors of fine high weirdness, they’ve also got a knack for extending their weirdness beyond sonics into the physical domain in unexpected ways. Case in point — go pick up one of their limited edition customized portable cassette players. It’ll make you feel weird. In a good way.

Charge of the Love Brigade | artist: Escape-ism — Sometimes the bad is so good it makes you feel like life is not fair. This is that real good bad. The good good bad. Outlaw rebel bad. And this outlaw rebel swaggers around knowing that he’s got a bigger rock-a-rolodex then you will ever know, child. Because he’s not just an outlaw rebel. He’s a rock and roll man. And this isn’t just rock and roll. This is vandalism. It may also be some sort of systematic attack on both cosmology and reason, I’m not sure. | 4 out of 5 stars, just on account of the understated and obviously hard-earned swagger — the music is otherwise unrated.

Interview with Eveale | Music on Ampwall and Bandcamp Tremelo guitar in the right speaker. Chug in the left. Blastbeats up the middle. Solid bass. Lots of blackened howls, but also something somewhat progressive. A hint of an allusion to more recent Mayhem and then we're on to something wide open. A lot of ambition packed into three minutes. Eveale are hinting at what's up with a new single just out May 30, 2025. Had a chance to chat about recording the new material and what's next. ## On Recording and Songwriting **Newt (North East Wizard Tyrant)** : We believe that Black Metal can attain an aggressive and powerful energy without leaning into a raw production style. Many artists thrive in that production style, and we believe it has a place artistically in the black metal sphere, but it did not feel like the right choice for us. We had seen the work that Erik Peabody of Viking Guitar Productions had done with a large spread of bands including Witnesses, Acrid Tomb, Am I in Trouble?, Over Centuries, Ashenheart, Mega Beardo, and knew he would make an excellent production partner to achieve our vision. To ensure the songs weren't excessively polished, we made a point of doing a very limited numbers of takes — and not being heavy-handed with editing and revisions. Fortunately our drummer, **BAT** (Basher At Things) is impeccable, and created a rock-solid foundation to build on top of. In terms of the music end of the songwriting, I handle that. My goals were to have a limited number of guitar tracks — two on "Lament of the Dryads" and three on "The Enemy". This also allowed the bass to be more prominent and offer more melodic moments. I wanted relatively short and concise song-lengths, and to stick to E-standard tuning as much as possible — though some of the rhythm guitar work on "Lament" is played on a 7-string guitar in standard tuning except for the lowest string, which was tuned to C. I wished to write in a similar Black Metal realm as the mighty Nidingr. They had an incredible ability to traverse the full range of the guitar, from biting, ringing and bright barre chords, to roiling, chewy low riffs, and everything in between. They have melodic, up-front bass, and brilliant, dynamic drum compositions. In terms of vocal production, we wanted to avoid the vocals being buried or hidden in the fog. MOTH delivered powerful performances, and they deserve to shine. He is also a brilliant lyricist and we wanted the lyrics to be comprehensible. ## On Visuals **Moth (Monarch of the Hillside)** : We knew that if we were to proceed with the "anonymous band" way of doing things, we would need some striking visuals in order to draw people in. One of my favourite logos is that of the black metal band Belore. So, we sought out the very talented Moonroot who did their logo, and what they came up with was phenomenal. It was very important to me, that the moth and newt were prominent on the logo — that is our whole identity as a band so it needed to be distinctive and unique. Beyond that, the layout of the EP cover, the color scheme, the overall feel, were all done in-house by myself with input from The Newt. Any art used so far has been either photographs taken by ourselves or old public domain paintings. We would like it on record that Eveale is vehemently against the use of AI generative so-called-art, and you have our solemn promise that none has been, or will ever be used in any of our work. ## On What's Next **Moth** : We have begun to piece together the basic ideas for the album. Currently, both tracks from the teaser EP are included, so they will give you an idea as to the overall feel of the music — however we do hope to include a couple of perhaps, unexpected twists and turns. At its heart though, it will be a Black Metal album. Lyrically, some of the tracks will be linked by the themes of the origins of the Moth and the Newt and the world of the woodland realm. But I wouldn't go as far as to say it will be a concept album. Some of the tracks will be completely separate from this theme, as is "The Enemy" from the teaser EP — a track which touches on mental health, injustice, and how to make a positive difference in the world, because it's important to look at yourself and strive to be better too. **Newt** : We hope to strike a balance between the raw, direct aggression that many pockets of Black Metal are known for, while also bringing something uniquely "Eveale" to the genre. **Moth** : One thing we strongly believe in, is physical media. Whilst our music will be available on streaming services and to buy digitally, there's something very special about having a physical copy of the music. We will always strive to put out something physical for our releases.

Pavements (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) | artist: Pavement — As is widely known, "Fillmore Jive" was the last song recorded in the 1990s. Not long after its completion, the entire Pavement professional musical ensemble perished in a freak flash flood. | How do you even begin rating something like this? 4 out of 5 stars (1994 review) / 1.75 out of 5 stars (2025 review) / 4.25 of 5 stars (2078 review)

In the Company of Champions | artist: Magus Lord — First of all, I beg M. to get someone else to master the side projects. That out of my system, what to make of this? It starts up with an overloaded gothic thing that in all of its sonics and repetition and choral synth and monophonic electric and rhythmic beats verges into latter Swans territory before rocking out with the metal-meets-volume-wars guitars. Take that all for what you will. This is not a Lamp album, so I will not discuss Lamp. But I saw Lamp maybe a year or two ago live and mostly wondered what M.'s concept of musical climax was. Because, it was all musical climax all the time. And while I get how that can be intoxicating as a songwriter and composer, it can nonetheless create a certain monotony. In listening to this Magus Lord release, I'm happy to hear things changed up — though it takes freaking forever to get there: taking nearly to the 7:45 mark of "I Break the Immortal Soul" to, well, break into something that wasn't just pounding. But then when the _Anthems_ -esque synth brass flourish happens at 8:45, it's actually quite nice. (And then back to the pummel). It is on the third track — "Spirit of Serenity" — that I really wish consideration had been given to mastering. (And this is coming from a guy who mastered Dirt's record to sound like Iggy had gotten into the control room). The intro synth passage is rendered into a kind of mess. And the clean sounds on track 4 don't come across any better. And let's talk about that track a second. I get the viking-era Bathory nod. But this gets nervously into Ren Faire territory. The chord progression comes off as, well, I don't know if "hokey" is the right word, but play it by yourself on an acoustic guitar and see what you think. And the vocals — when they finally enter — are a weak yell compared to the mighty growl more common (and more effective) throughout M.'s catalog. By the time we got to the saw synth following the galloping Heavy Metal riff, I was fading. I woke up a few minutes later to what sounded like Ovation guitars and a mellotron flute. Ritchie Blackmore would be proud (no shade on Ritchie... he's still one of my favorites). All of this, of course, is leading up to what I can only describe as a remarkable closing track. From the call-and-respons(ive) riffage to the (really nice) clean vocals to the harmonically rich movements, we've got a serious song on our hands here. The guitars feel a bit more, well, like an arena rock thing. Which is actually a nice way to mix things up. And then right in the middle of the song there is this sort of quick-talk refrain thing that goes on and on and would not sound out of place on a mid-period PiL album. I downright enjoy this last blast from M. And I don't want to make it sound as though there isn't anything here worth spending time with across the album as a whole. In fact, throughout the album, M. shows signs of brilliance, a keen knowledge and passion for first phase Black Metal, and maybe even a sense of mischief. But, I can't help wanting this to be better than it is. And a big part of that has to do with the lack of dynamics and the gravitation towards redlining the boards. | 2.75 out of 5 stars

"We've been living on a psychedelic substrate for 40 years with the set and setting of surveillance and control and no wonder we are having a bad trip." Just go listen to some Rushkoff.

Instant Holograms On Metal Film | artist: Stereolab — I always preferred reading music reviews about Stereolab's music to actually listening to the music itself. I saw them once in the early or maybe the mid 90s when they came through Washington, DC. I didn't know they would be playing that night — I think I had gone to see a friend's band play. I found the groop to be both mesmerizing and boring. I don’t know which part of that equation I like more in hindsight. I remember asking a much more worldy music-listening friend what he thought about them and his reply was succinct: "Oh, it's fine". And he said it in the way you describe a 3-star airport hotel. Stereolab's music can feel at times too perfect. In its hodgepodge (yes, I am using the word 'hodgepodge') of references to Krautrock, the Velvet Underground, French jazz, the Beach Boys, other weird pop, and an often droney arpeggiated electronica, Stereolab sort of created their own genre. It's music that sounds decent when you hear it come on the speakers in a used bookshop. You say "Stereolab" and people might ask you "more drone or more pop?" but they'll get what you are saying. I find the same thing happens with Yo La Tengo. Though YLT sometimes come across as more, um, visceral? (In an NPR pledge drive sort of way). Maybe this new album — their first in what feels like 30 years (I think it's actually 15) — represents an attempt to create an album that finally and formally establishes “Stereolab” as a fully realized genre unto itself. Maybe if you were to close your eyes and say “Stereolab” aloud three times, this music would be the result. It is music that might better be described by describing what famous scenes from films the songs would remind you of. I will not indulge in that practice here. But feel free to try this out with your friends. Nevertheless, Stereolab is the kind of band that either you love to write about or you hate to write about. Those who love to write about them can do so knowing that they get to show off how smart they are. These are music journalists with degrees in creative writing or maybe they were failed film majors. But they are people who can appreciate lyrics. And Stereolab's lyrics have always played with love (or something like it), nostalgia, place and memory, and politics (or something like it). As they sang on "Cybele’s Reverie" from 1996: > L'enfance est plus authentique The problem then, typical to songs with strong lyrics, is that we fall into discussions of "what it all means". And there is only so much time in the day. At their best, Stereolab's words and music tumble together into just patterns of sound. That said, there are words that are designed to pry your eyes open within the jazzy major 7th chords of the otherwise breezy "Melodie is a Wound" on the new album. > Flawed, the extradition request > Blown, the freedom of conscience > Is there some form of justice possible or > So long, public's right to know the truth > Gagged, muzzled by the powerful This will not come as a surprise to members of Team Stereolab. Therein lies something wonderful about this music. It is the type of thing you would hear in some early reggae. You'd hear it in The Clash. You hear it all throughout Hip-Hop. It's an unrepentant political voice singing to you over a head bobber or candy-like melody that acts as an umbrella obscuring the words from prying eyes. It is the best way to get your message ingrained into the Conversation. This was there from the beginning (see "Lo Boob Oscillator" from 1993): > Réceptive et absorbante > De la lumière qu'elle renvoie > Elle rayonne au-dessus des toits > Et fluctue de çà et là > Changeante, fascinante > Parfois même éblouissante > C'est ainsi qu'on l'aperçoit > Disque parfait, disque lumineux > Ne vous rappelle-t-elle pas l'hostie/le style ? > De ceux qui lèvent la tête > Dans l'espoir de s'élever un peu > Transitoire, unique, symbolique > De quelques visions imaginaires > Elle en impressionne plus d'un > Qui prennent peur et délirent > Elle est au-dessus de tout ça In the heady days of the mid-90s, there seemed to be two sides to Stereolab. One side was the drone-and-beat-driven sound of the opener "Metronomic Underground" on the 1996 album _Emperor Tomato Ketchup_ — which, as it spreads out over 7 1/2 minutes, gets you in that kind of headspace you get into listening to an extended Fela Kuti number. The other side of Stereolab resembles something like a love theme from an imaginary French movie about people who wear jaunty hats and frolic (in a detatched way) through the city. This new album unfortunately has too much of the latter — see the latter half of "Immortal Hands" as the perfection of that sound encapsulated. That said, there are many beautiful moments through out the album. My favorite song is "Le Coeur et la Force" — it is a wonder of wistfulness and a sort of emancipated recognition of the divine — or the divinity of communication and words or places themselves — that comes on like an unexpected hymn. > De l'origine > Le soir à l'heure > Des profondeurs > La force divine > À peine visible > Sourd l'egrégore > Ta clé de voûte > L'éternité > Nous est prêtée And the end of "Flashes from Everywhere" is nothing if not lovely. And, for that matter, "Esemplastic Creeping Eruption" seems to play with and deconstruct this mode of cute-song, which is nice. Stereolab seem to take stock in the breaking down of all things, including the song itself. If there is one thing the songs do well, it is to confound as to what to expect next in the song. There are many twists and turns. But even as I type this, I can't help but shake the feeling that even throughout the multi-passaged songs, I ended up feeling just, well, distracted. To be honest, I find much of it to be rather tiresome. But (this review — which I don't think actually talked about the album at all — being the exception to the rule) it always has the effect of turning out some smart music writing, so I guess that’s something. But you get what you get. And if you want some of that "Stereolab" music, I guess this is the place to get it. Don't complain. You asked for it. And you knew exactly what you were going to get. Just think of them as like the AC/DC of avant-pop. It's fine. | 2.5 out of 5 stars

Steel, Rust and Disgust | artist: Midnight — The flame-throwing beast that is Midnight reminds us of two things on this covers-heavy set: a) you do not rock as hard as Midnight b) you do not rock as hard as Cleveland. This album of (mostly) covers — and covers mostly of the Cleveland-centric variety — is the kind of tribute album that doesn’t feel like a gimmick. It feels more like your favorite Cleveland punk rock dive bar having a “local bands cover local bands” night. And Midnight just refuses to leave the stage. Rightfully so. | 3.5 out of 5 stars

Are We All Angels | artist: Scowl | Yes, there will be comparisons to Hole and to _Bleach_ ’s fuzzier twists and turns. Yes, there will be “hardcore” boys trying to wring the knots out of their underpants. Yes, there will be complaints about selling out maddeningly typed into Reddit via $1,500 iPhones by people with lifetime Spotify subscriptions. Who cares? This is a fun and fuzzy pop hardcore thing that sounds to my ears like a cross between California punk and Velocity Girl. I’m here for it. My biggest criticism is that the whole thing sounds too glossy. And the obsession with catchy choruses gets a bit stale in parts. I'm not the biggest fan of "follow the chords" guitar and bass. But, the vocals win me over. Thank god Scowl isn't fronted by some dude who shouts through every song. Anyway, accept it for what it is — a lively take on the poppier side of hardcore punk in the year 2025 — 43 years after the release of Bad Religion's first album. Or to put it in perspective, the release of _Are We All Angels_ is as distant from the release of Bad Religion’s debut (and Minor Threat’s, for that matter) as the release of those recordings was from the invasion of Poland and the evacuation of Dunkirk in WWII. They should be happy with this one. You could definitely do worse (and plenty have). I'm looking forward to what comes next. | 3.5 out of 5 stars

Spectrum by Am I in Trouble? — This is the best progressive metal album (Death, Blackened, Trad or otherwise) by an American band since Wilderun’s 2019 masterpiece _Veil of Imagination_. And I say that realizing that this is exactly the kind of record that ties into knots the tongues of the “what genre is it?” crowd. But this album is about so much more than tiresome genre debates. I also say this realizing that this album has the twin hex (in terms of any hesitancy someone may have in expressing too great a public opinion of it) of being a "solo" project (whatever that means) and a debut album. Nonetheless, I'm more than willing to be wrong in the sighing eyes of whatever future sensibilities judge this album. It's been nearly six months since _Spectrum_ was released, so I've had more than enough time to take it in and re-appraise my initial thoughts about it. I've had more than enough time to change my mind about it. To capture the way I truly felt. To be more critical. Nevertheless. Wanna play "sounds like"? Nope. Doesn't work. How about "would make sense on the same bill as (time machine included)" instead. Arcturus, yeah. _Orchid_ -era Opeth? Hmm. _Anthems_ -era Emperor? Or is it latter Ihsahn? Does it have to be metal at all? How about in support of the plaintive harmonies of an indie band like the long lost Be of the "Corporal's Daughter"? But I digress, because the more obvious hypothetical stage-mate would be Solefald. Because there is something in the ontological makeup of AIIT — something in the foundational semantic building blocks of the sound and approach and even vision, it seems — that is about a chemical categorization of the fracturing, splintering, and reassembly of all things — that is about the synthesis and cycling of molecules into chemical compounds. > Cycles > Twisting, spirals ending > Only to come back around In this thought exercise, take genre out of the loop entirely. Just take in the shifting moods, playful and wistful entrances and exits, level of craft — and substance of songwriting — across the bifurcated shards of the, well, “spectrum”, that is represented here on _Spectrum_. And consider. Where Solefald’s _World Metal_ naturally exhibits the European folk melody influence on the more Pop-oriented passages of its metal pastiche, AIIT hints (perhaps less explicitly) at a not dissimilar, but perhaps diametrically defined, wealth of influences (including said reference)— either directly or (even more interestingly) indirectly. Maybe that's it. Maybe that's one of the key things that makes this work. The indirectness. Like the behind-the-beat drawls and spoken word in "Red" — almost in the tonal and spiritual realm of _I Against I_. Often, when we are listening to music, we are trying to contextualize from within. Meaning: we define what we hear through a lens of direct impression and association to other music, bands, and whathaveyou (that we at some point have internalized for whatever reason). Those categories that appear to be most relevant, or most similar, or most influential help us to put things in perspective in regard to whatever has captured our ears. But a record like _Spectrum_ brings up the entire issue of indirect listening — maybe as a form of intertextual close listening. Given the choices made on the record (just listen to the bass within the context of the rising passages of the aforementioned "Red"__ and explain why the tone steps so far astride the sort of Black Metal that otherwise would be assumed to ground such chromaticism in the context of an extreme metal band). Why is such an easy stylistic choice to make — a Salieri-esque choice, as it were — so definitively eschewed, but without any fanfare or sense of obligation amongst the other instruments? One can begin to discern the structural intent of what’s going on (what kind of building they are trying to hold up) by considering what is _not_ included or what may only be alluded to more as a consideration or as a passing reference than as a core element. Because AIIT presents us with not an elemental world, but rather a world of molecular compounds. For the occultists amongst you, they are not working within view of the Watchtowers, because they are caught in the maelstrom of a thousand minor demons all clamoring to get a bite of the apple. Within that cloud writhes some kind of truth. So, what writhes between the lines in the epic instrumental _Blue_? What are the fusions that have brought lines together — not just meandering and intertwined, but entangled as though through a crucible? Whatever is any of it? These shards, these myriad artifacts. One of the things going on here is that in all of the obvious comparisons to AIIT, you are dealing with bands who have embodied the insertion of European musical traditions — especially folk melody — into the metal paradigm. Whereas on _Spectrum_ , AIIT takes from that synthesized material and then carries it into a place that is not bashful about AOR vocal harmonies and clean guitars that have more in common with Queensrÿche than with European folk-metal. It is maybe the reverse side of the coin represented by someone like Steven Wilson. Incubated on Hawkwind and King Crimson, when looking at American rock, he seems to be pulling from the likes of Todd Rundgren, Alice Cooper (more like Bob Ezrin, really), and Blue Öyster Cult but then mangling it into a new sound that is distinctly, well "removed" from American antecedents for lack of a better word, and re-inserted into the British paradigm. Likewise AIIT feels grounded in an East Coast style of production, but dwells amongst the furniture of the likes of Arcturus only to reconfigure it into something that sounds unlike — and even "removed" — from the Scandinavian antecedent. By the time the opening salvo of _Black_ comes around, it is as though you've felt that you've learned a new language. A language of emptiness. A language of what fills it. > Til it pours down your throat, plugs up the ears, fills up the lungs In the end, and perhaps as a result of the urbanity of the influences cubed by the sophistication of the approach to composition, AIIT pull something off which often gets lost in the way that we talk about music. Namely, amongst all of the arpeggiated and mercurial movements and call-and-response between demonic voices and cool harmonies and all of the expansive guitar solos and the flashes of keys and electric pianos and metropolitan bass figures and all of it all of it all of it — AIIT has provided space to think. Unlike those experiences with music, and perhaps especially heavy music — where we gravitate towards the immediacy and repetition of riffs and the forward-propulsion and the ecstatic nature of it all — music like what AIIT have created is more cerebrally expansive (without being pedantic or assumptive) and is more revelatory (without being messianic) wherein by getting closer to musical realization we get closer to a sort of personal gnosis regarding the way that we think about music itself. And that is worth the trouble. | 4.5 out of 5 stars

The Mechanics of Mysticism | artist: Ether Diver — An ambitious bit of occasionally abstract electronica mashed up with bouncing rhythms, _The Mechanics of Mysticism_ proposes to be the preliminary results of an effort "to catalog the techniques, tools and technology of direct experience of the divine". Like I said, ambitious. The result? Well, in someways it's analogous to the psychogeographic work of those handful of electronic producers working over imaginary scenarios in the pastoral plane. But whereas much of that work seeks to place the listener in a state (even in a defined place), Ether Diver's work seems more to begin in a state and then encourage you to reach out beyond it. The means, however feel more structured than purely psychedelic. And throughout most of these tracks there is that bounce. I like to think of it as not the monotonous up and down bouncing of a festival crowd, but the bouncing of a pliant rubber ball down a brick pathway and long set of stairs. The more you try to catch up with it, the more likely you are to lose your footing. Making it all that much more necessary to watch your step — to keep yourself aware, lithe, balanced. And maybe that is what Ether Diver is getting at with these proposed techniques, tools, and technologies of direct experience. | 3.25 out of 5 stars.

Temporada de Homínidos EP | artist: Animals Revenge — Tight songwriting, driving d-beat, and lots of shouting made this an enormously exciting release. It is the soundtrack to getting chased by a bear. Crunchy guitars, over-driven bass, killer trash drums... and did I mention lots of shouting? Maybe there is a more fun band, but I doubt it. There is a demo of Animals Revenge from back in 2016. The first song is called "Animals Revenge" (and for those of you keeping score at home, the quickest way to my heart is to have a song with the same name as your band – preferably as the first track on your first release and even more preferably if you play it live wearing your own band's t-shirt). The chorus of that song pretty much sum up the band's thesis: Homicidio calificado con dolo y violencia contaminas el aire, los mares extinguen especies, debe de acabarse Animals revenge Hunters beware. | This version is out on cassette from Fiadh — _Temporada de Homínidos_ (2019) was the first **official** release from Animals Revenge. | 4 out of 5 stars.

The Teeth of Time | artist: Drouth — There is a wrenching tremolo pull that uproots an electric guitar chord at about the 5:10 mark of the track that opens this five song set by Drouth which sort of sums up the project. It is akin to a jaw being suddenly wrought open against its wishes. And to the best of my ears' understanding, this in fact is music as a form of extraction. "Beneath the folds of the map, the territory crumbles" they sing in the second track — "False Grail". And the question lingers — whatever was that territory to begin with and is it possible to extract chaotic meaning from falsely ordered space? I peer into the morass of architectural, alien, and biologic shapes on the cover of this album and it just makes me wonder more. In its constant flurry of blastbeats, howling, and often gorgeous guitar passages, it offers up whatever it finds in those uprooted fibers of ordered muscular life as a sacrifice to memories — maybe they are not memories, maybe they are prophecies. Everything gives and slathers of deathly blackened disobedience tumble into the void. The somewhat archaic tones present in the title track ("O tragedy, thou long and radiant twilight / O rhapsody, a charnel roar then smooth and sudden silence") point to a literary goal, but the tactics are both unrelenting and oblique. No easy answers. All in all, something of a metaphysical sense to this mass of sound (with a capital "M"). I wouldn't be surprised at all to see Drouth in several end-of-the-year lists, but if I am to be honest, in giving oneself over to this listen, you may be forgiven for harboring any doubt that the end of this particular year may ever arrive. | Physical media on Eternal Warfare | 4 out of 5 stars.

Wings Beneath Krynn's Moonlight | artist: Mythráen — I imagine there will be plenty of listeners who speak to the fantastical lyricism and moody rhythms of Mythráen's latest release. While, on the surface, the compositions fall into the general occupations of Dark Dungeon and Fantasy Synth music writ large, there is something subtle happening here which plays to a nice effect. While we've been told that the music is characterized by crisp production, it's actually a recurring surface noise and occasional sonic artifacts — and the contrast between these features and the carefully constructed recordings — that make this set the most compelling. There seems to be a recognition of the recorded and composed event itself. In other words, what is _there_ in the recording — in the mix — is "allowed" to be there. That's what we're hearing in the abrupt and clipped "tape ends" and occasional hum marking the ingress and egress from track to track. It is not just about "what is there", it is about "how it is there" — there is license given to the recording itself and whatever palimpsest nuances may have been left as residual traces. Yes, this may be read as a nod to genre and bygone techniques, but for these old ears it is referentially useful. And yes, surface noise is hardly uncommon in the space (especially in the sense of adding a retro sensibility) — think certain well known post-tape recordings that dwell on the tape warble sound. But here, maybe because the compositions themselves feel so relatively polished and the start-stop times feel so scrapbooked, it comes across as germanely human as opposed to cognizantly detached. It feels more about the process than about the style. You can veritably feel the push of a button ending the cycle of a mix. Alas, your wizarding mileage may vary. And there are plenty of fantastical flourishes (and mystical head-nodding rhythms) in this one to make it worth the adventure no matter your expectations, sonic or otherwise. Out on WereGnome Records | 3.5 out of 5 stars.

Burden | artist: Obsidian Urn — The big sludgey riffs hang around like overtaxed storm clouds casting slowly shifting shadows on whatever is below. The drums swing back and forth. There is space — as in a spatial physical place — imbued in these recordings. One feels as if in the midst of it all. The desiccated and amp torn sustain on "Oathing" occasionally weaves into the vocal growl. They become entwined. Strangling one another. The amp noise at the beginning of "Where Root and Rock Unfurl" rattles like the wing of a bat three days dead. A bat wing hung as a totem above a screen door that looks out to overgrowth under that dark, slowly lumbering storm cloud. | Released on Realm and Ritual | 3.75 out of 5 stars.

Las cuerdas rebosan magia | artist: maximucho2 — You know the sound. The moderately fast, harmonically sloppy, repetitive (until a weird change happens — like sudden triumphant cartoon horns) sound. Distorted vocals through a practice amp. The trebly hot mess Grime Stone sound. Started out listening to this one and immediately found myself comparing it to every other take on this idea in the catalog. Intro. First song. Second song. Third so… whoa what was that? Talk about burying the lede. Pop sensibilities? Short story: if this were a single comprised of just the last two songs, I’d give it 4 stars just for its mashup of Hüsker Dü with the GSR black metal sound. I’d completely wear that record out. | 3.25 out of 5 stars.