Swedish doomcrunchers Skogskult release their self-titled debut full-length tomorrow, Dec. 5, through Bonebag Records. Based in Umeå, the four-piece of vocalist Simon Rosengrim, guitarist Samuel Nordström, bassist Albin Kroon and drummer Alexander Söderlund emerge with tectonic purpose and a bite to their approach that feels culled from sludge, but at a certain point, these lines begin to blur, and nine-minute opener/longest track (immediate points) “Lyktans Låga” is well on the other side of that imaginary mark, beginning with a low brooding quiet intro that cymbal washes into the first full-tone slam. It’s like their music is a sledgehammer and they’re rearing back over their shoulder to swing it again with each new measure.

It’s not post-metal because it’s not hyper-cerebral feeling. That is, when the grueling nod that develops in “Lyktans Låga” shifts into a softer stretch — a volume trade well familiar to post-metallic types — before its massive, slow-rolling payoff, it doesn’t feel contrived. Certainly Skogskult have put thought into the structure, but the impression is still raw in tone and vocals, and the brutal groove is the first of many. “Turs” picks up the pace with a doomly swing and a piped-in-from-the-dark-ether harsher verse, and also has a break later, a comedown with melody that reminds of Monolord without actually sounding like them, and that holds over for a while until the long last scream. The transition to “Jag Ger Mig Av” is direct and lets the standalone bass rumble come into focus for 30 seconds before the inward sweep arrives, another shout included for good measure. Less of a shove than the song before, “Jag Ger Mig Av” makes its impression in the spaciousness of its roll, and on a record without a centerpiece, it feels like one anyway as the band dutifully chugs toward another stirring culmination, this one capping side A and every bit worthy of its placement.

“Pakten” introduces a shuffle where one is needed. It’s the shortest inclusion on Skogskult by mere seconds at six minutes flat, but it feels like a turn from the first three songs just the same, and adds to the palette the band are working with generally. There is no quiet break and loud return, and while consistent in tone, the band bring forth a boogie that proves refreshing. This sets up the melodic triumph of “Sol,” which works its way forward at a slow crawl through a moodier ambience early on, beginning a single linear build that spreads out over the 7:53, less crushing than anything among side A’s heaviest moments, but branching out and showcasing a diversity of intent in their songwriting — something that obviously bodes well for a band getting their feet under them and exploring who they want to be as Skogskult are here — and redirecting structure only make for a richer listening experience on the whole. They close with “Snöblind,” the intro to which is probably the source of the Sleep comparison the PR wire makes below, and accordingly is nothing to complain about.

It’s somewhat expected that Skogskult would finish huge, returning to the largesse of side A and tying the entire release together, but there’s still more melody in “Snöblind” (and no, it’s not a cover). Rosengrim takes advantage of the space in the riff to evoke a bit of soul, and the lumber that ensues is engrossing in classic stonerly fashion. They break and return, underscoring the point. Already by then, however, the context of the album as a whole has expanded because of the purposeful work on the band’s part to make it do so, and instead of feeling repetitive, “Snöblind” ties together both sides of Skogskult‘s Skogskult, fostering melodic outreach as well as barebones distorted roll. What I like best about it is it sets its own patterns and shows the band have something to say in terms of songwriting, which comes through despite the notable (so here’s me noting it) language deficit on my part.

But it’s a deficit and not a barrier and that’s a distinction worth making. I’m sure this is a far wimpier analogy than the band would find appropriate, but there’s kind of a seed-planting sense throughout Skogskult, and one hopes the years to come will indeed bring a garden’s flourishing therefrom, but the nascence aspects of this first full-length — inarguably among the most crucial statements a band can make — make it more exciting as a prospect for what might follow. In the meantime, all killer.

The album streams in its entirety on the player below. Please enjoy.

Taking cues from classic doom bands like Sleep, Acid King, and Electric Wizard, as well as contemporary acts like Monolord and Telekinetic Yeti, Bonebag Records is thrilled to announce the debut album from rising stars, Skogskult.

Formed in 2022 in Umeå and featuring members of underground bands Från Mars, Scitalis, and Never Recover, the Swedish doom quartet marked their path toward the album with new single “Turs.” Produced by Cavern Deep and Bonebag Record’s own Max Malmer, ‘Turs’ is the second of three singles – following ‘Pakten’ earlier this year – that delve deep into Nordic mythology and arcane mystery. The track tells the story of beings rising from their slumber, bringing destruction as forests fall and mountains bleed. With Swedish lyrics and heavy, fuzz-driven guitars, ‘Turs’ continues to build the atmosphere that defines Skogskult’s sound.

Drawing on imagery of Skinwalkers, Norse burial rituals, and occult gatherings, Skogskult channels the dark traditions of doom and stoner rock into a fuzz-filled vision of darker days to come.

“I had the fortune of catching one of their first shows and signing them on the spot,” explains Malmer. “It was so great to see that there were young, local musicians getting into the stoner doom genre. Since discovering them we’ve produced an entire album together. Hopefully this new single will give everyone a sense of what they’re all about.”

Skogskult’s self-titled debut will be released on 5th December 2025 via Bonebag Records.

Tracklisting:
1. Lyktans Låga
2. Turs
3. Jag Ger Mig Av
4. Pakten
5. Sol
6. Snöblind

Skogskult:
Samuel Nordström – Guitar
Albin Kroon – Bass
Simon Rosengrim – Vocals
Alexander Söderlund – Drums

Skogskult on Bandcamp

Skogskult on Instagram

Skogskult on Facebook

Bonebag Records website

Bonebag Records on Instagram

Bonebag Records on Facebook

Gothenburg, Sweden’s Homegrown release their second, self-titled album this Friday, Dec. 5, through Majestic Mountain Records. Note that the knight on the album cover is riding his horse backwards. These little clues divulge the persona of the instrumentalist four-piece, whose prog aspects feel ’70s-rooted without retroism and who on “Huldran” here use that progressive ideology to bask in a dub jam, so Homegrown‘s Homegrown, substantial-feeling at 10 tracks/51 minutes. They get low-slung and blues-jammy on “Adams Äpple” and find a tonal brightness in “Häxjakt i Snetakt” that is about more than just the shreddy solo that takes hold. There’s a sense of charge there, in contrast to the later “Gånglåt till Käringberget,” which is more outwardly serene and folk-informed. Is that an accordion I hear? It might be, but I’ve got a cold, so don’t quote me on it.

Folk becomes no less essential to the listening experience, and if one hears some likeness to Needlepoint in the ultra-organic “Mylingen” before the surging but still melodic payoff — nickelharpa? — I don’t think that’s necessarily out of line, though I’ll admit my knowledge of actual Swedefolk is pretty limited. Fortunately for me, Homegrown have more going on than just that. “Huldran” has a heavy psychedelic swirl, and “Den Hornkrönte” sounds like a lost ’60s surf instrumental. Closer “Talisman” has a mellotron. Clearly this is a band willing and ready to go where their songs are leading them, but one can’t listen to an arrangement like “Ringöpolskan,” when it brings in the acoustic strum late and say Homegrown aren’t minding the details here. They credit themselves with guitar, bass and drums, and I suppose it’s possible to make all these noises with those instruments, but the plainness of that does little to convey the actual adventure you’re about to embark on in listening.

Beginning with “Frihetsvisa i A-Moll” at the album’s outset, but true of “Huldran,” “Den Hornkrönte” and “Ringöpolskan” as well, Homegrown attempt to knock the listener off balance with a kind of false start. It sounds like they were making noise before ‘record’ was pressed, and feels specifically geared to give this impression, but the effect is to make their audience all the more open to what a song is doing by making them believe it’s already started. There are some stark turns from these intros as well, and part of what the album teaches is that Homegrown can be relied on to change up their approach and include the occasional misdirect. Light tricksterism. It feels consistent with the charm of their arrangements on the whole.

If your takeaway from the above is progressive instrumentalist heavy psychedelia with Swedish folk elements, that’s a decent start for knowing where Homegrown are coming from, but no doubt there’s still a surprise or two in store for you listening to the album, which you can do on the player below, with more PR wire info following.

Please enjoy:

Formed in 2018, Homegrown quickly earned attention with their fuzz-drenched sound, equal parts psychedelic exploration and hypnotic groove. Their early work, including the debut EP Berget Gråter (2023) and full-length Himalayaz (2024), showcased a raw, vocal-driven approach with guitarist Cedric Bergendal handling the mic.  But for their new album, they’ve decided to ditch vocals entirely and quite honestly, they don’t need them.

After years of sweaty, high-energy shows across Sweden alongside acts like Endless Boogie and Öresund Space Collective, Homegrown have built a reputation for turning live stages into volcanic experiences. Now with their self-titled release, the band cements their status as one of Scandinavia’s most magnetic instrumental acts, no words, no filters, just waves of heavy sound rolling straight from amp to audience.

Tracklisting:
1. Frihetsvisa i A-Moll
2. Häxjakt i Snetakt
3. Huldran
4. Adams Äpple
5. Mylingen
6. Forséns öra
7. Den Hornkrönte
8. Gånglåt till Käringberget
9. Ringöpolskan
10. Talisman

Producer: Sebastian Darthsson & Homegrown
Engineer: Sebastian Darthsson
Mixing Engineer: Sebastian Darthsson
Mastering: Per-Robin Eriksson

Homegrown:
Cedric Bergendal: Guitar
Marcus Bertilsson: Guitar
Adam Jensen: Bass
Oskar Brindmark : Drums

Homegrown on Bandcamp

Homegrown on Instagram

Majestic Mountain Records webstore

Majestic Mountain Records on Bandcamp

Majestic Mountain Records on Instagram

Majestic Mountain Records on Facebook

Last year, Palm Desert took part in Electric Witch Mountain Recordings‘ compilation of Polish acts, Deep Seven Vol. 1 (review here), with the nine-minute “Elegy of the Past,” which had room in its expanse to harness a hard-driving desert-derived heavy rock and roll up front and still trip out a bit in the second half with a procession more laid back and psychedelic. Rays of the Gold and Grays, the follow-up LP from the long-running outfit, is either their sixth or third full-length, depending on how you want to count offerings like 2013’s Rotten Village Sessions or the jam-based 2016 LP, Songs From the Dead Seas, but what matters more than the numbers involved — which is something one might feel compelled to say when the numbers are murky — is the presence in the music.

Recorded by drummer Kamil Ziółkowski (also Spaceslug and Mountain of Misery) with a mix/master by Haldor Grunberg at Satanic Audio, the four-piece of Ziółkowski, bassist Jan Rutka (Spaceslug), vocalist Wojciech Gałuszka (who also recorded some vocals in Kettering, UK), and guitarist Piotr Łacny — plus Wojciech Kuczwalski on additional guitar — harness rich desert fuzz with a sense of largesse that should by this point be recognizable in Ziółkowski‘s recordings. The eight-song/43-minute outing has its foundation in rolling, warm distortion, as “In the Breeze” opens by drawing an immediate line to classic European underground heavy rock, whether that’s manifest in the inexplicable airy hugeness of Dozer or the riffy sway of modern practitioners like Kal-El.

In terms of ‘desert,’ you could extrapolate the charge of “Black Hurricane” from the likes of Kyuss, and of course the band are named after the town Kyuss came from, but it’s an effort to hear them with everything else Palm Desert have going on in their sound, and the dynamic that unfurls throughout Rays of the Gold and Grays draws more from the pointed focus on massive tonality than it does from the warm distortion that typifies desert rock. That is to say, Palm Desert bring more to the proceedings than one might anticipate at some 11 years’ remove from their last album-proper, and Rays of the Gold and Grays benefits greatly from that in aesthetic and realization.

As noted, “In the Breeze” launches the album, and it’s quickly dug into the roll that defines it. Gałuszka as a singer is prone to burl, but his voice is well in balance with the guitars, pushed down a bit in the mix so as not to compete with the riffs, and treated with a bit of reverb for good measure. This lets Gałuszka reside a bit more in the nascent swirl that caps “In the Breeze” and which the eight-and-a-half-minute “Lightriders” and the subsequent wah-burner “At the Edge of Time” build upon, and demonstrates a malleability of the mix to highlight various moments throughout. In “Black Hurricane,” which is the shortest track on Rays of the Gold and Grays at 3:33, it’s not all about the fuzzblast, but it’s pretty close, and as the guitar solo pushes over into the crescendo of song, the vocals are very much a part of that cacophony, but the voice doesn’t distract from what’s happening atmospherically there in terms of noise, and that’s a strength Palm Desert show throughout; not something that’s making or breaking your LP, necessarily, but an attention to detail satisfyingly reaffirmed by a mature band.

Paired perhaps for ‘black and blue’ purposes, “Black Hurricane” gives over fluidly to “Blue of the Sky,” with a layered vocal in the verse and a raw, forward trajectory that reminds a bit of Sasquatch in its smoothing out of stark turns before the solo finishes it out. Unsurprisingly, “Lightriders” as the not-quite-centerpiece intentionally has a broader scope — that is, “Blue of the Sky, “Black Hurricane,” etc. aren’t lacking, but different pieces here are written to different expressive ends — and starts quieter with a bit of swagger in the far off lead echoing behind the verse as it builds up before the explosion of tone that shoves it all on the listener, crushing and immersive, then stops, takes a breath, and does it again like 15 seconds later. Fans of London’s Steak will find themselves at home in the midst of all the ensuing big-tone nod, and Palm Desert give due ride to that very, very heavy riff that they’ve stuck in the middle-ish of their record, but diverge in the second half of the song to revisit the intro’s more subdued flow before thickening up the fuzz once more to roll to the end with residual lead echoing before the dreamier start of “At the Edge of Time” tells us the flip has been made to side B. An engine starts.

Hear a purring motor, and sure enough, Palm Desert are ‘burnin’ fuel,’ as the fellow says, in the groovy, wah-drenched crunch of “At the Edge of Time,” a steady, momentum-keeping lead-in for the title-track, which has another softer intro but hits plenty hard from there on, the riff like it’s trying to climb over itself to pull you in. Lower-register vocals in the chorus bring variety at a good moment for it, but there’s plenty of outreach in “Rays of the Gold and Grays,” backed by the immediacy with which “Son of a Wind and Dust” starts and deceptively establishes the riff before the verse actually begins, the band taking their time and staying in-pocket on the groove while it still sounds more straightforward than the title-track because it’s faster. I’d say it’s the little things, but for the fact that it comes across so enormous. The closer, “In My Eyes,” continues that thread while harkening back to some of the softer-landing moments with jammier tradeoff stretches, extra punch seeming to come through the bass even as the layers of guitar drive the album’s apex, finishing with leftover guitar keeping the energy with which it paid off the finale.

And ‘energy’ is a key component here, to be sure, but Rays of the Gold and Grays doesn’t rely simply on fervor to make its point in sound. Though it can feel monolithic at points, and I think it’s supposed to, the movement within and between songs is always there, and Palm Desert steer that momentum with craft and confidence in what they’re doing. In some ways, that’s emblematic of the band’s years, but no question it’s also what lets them bring a feeling of freshness to this material. I won’t predict when Palm Desert might be heard from again, but Rays of the Gold and Grays feels primed to greet new listeners.

Palm Desert on Bandcamp

Palm Desert on Instagram

Palm Desert on Facebook

Electric Witch Mountain Recordings on Bandcamp

Electric Witch Mountain Recordings on Facebook

First, a note about math. Copenhagen mellowpsych instrumentalists Papir were last heard from with 2022’s 7 (review here), which, intuitively, was put forth as their seventh album. Three years later, here come the seven songs and 75 minutes of IX. What happened to VIII? Did I miss an eighth Papir record? Now, before 7, in 2021, the trio released the 2LP collection Jams (review here), which very much was what it purported to be: jams.

But if they were going to count that instead of a numbered release, wouldn’t the bump have been before 7? So that would’ve been 8 or VIII or however they decided to write it? Or, alternatively, maybe there’s a lost Papir record. Maybe VIII exists on a hard drive somewhere. Maybe they skipped it out of some Danish superstition I don’t know. Maybe it got lost on the way to mastering and they’re so creative they decided to make a whole new record instead of just resending files.

I don’t know.

And does it matter when you’re dug into the pastoralist sprawl in “IX.IIII” (9:34), after Christoffer Brøchmann Christensen drums drop out (they come back, cymbals and light hits, don’t worry) when it’s just guitarist Nicklas Sørensen and bassist Christian Becher Clausen out there searching? No, to be sure, it doesn’t matter in the slightest. Papir could call their curiously-named eighth full-length anything else and it would still sound as sweet. The wash that’s created in opener “IX.I” (9:23) and the subtle, spacey movement in “IX.II” (10:33) that gives over later to more drift — name the record whatever, they remain. Papir have always been about exploration in a space, whether that’s a live setting, a studio, presumably a rehearsal room, etc. Their sound feels out the boundaries of the walls, bounces here and there, and coming through headphones, modern psychedelia holds few delights as comforting as having that beamed directly into your head. There’s sooth and surf in “IX.III” (10:06), and it comes through gorgeously with the organic tones, effects flourish, and patient delivery that have become staple elements of Papir‘s approach over the last 15 years.

A nuanced conversation between the guitar and bass in “IX.III” as the second half plays out sounds more structured than improvised, but IX wouldn’t be the first instance of Papir toying with the lines between making it up on the spot and composing. I’m not sure if it’s lap steel or an effect, but “IX.III” gives itself over to sentimentality in its later reaches, giving over to “IX.IIII” as the jazzier centerpiece with additional percussion, shakers and such, for extra motor-conveyance, some genuine Earthless-style solo shred in the first half and the aforementioned blissery in the second. That lead is abut as energetic as Papir get on the album, though 21-minute finale “IX.IIIIIII” (hey, I don’t name ’em, I just make run-on sentences about ’em) has its bursts as well as one might expect. One doesn’t generally think of Papir as trying to be heavy for heaviness’ sake, as they’ve never needed that to bring a sense of presence to their material, but their dynamic has grown broader, and especially on an offering that has so much palpable space, so much room in the sound, to hear them fill it in such a manner is thrilling, even just for a time.

Actually, I’ll say especially just for a time, because the truth is that Papir wouldn’t be half as immersive or comforting as they are if they were just unipolar in going all-in. They’ve learned in their years to follow where their whims take them, and the result is a vast and expansive sound, brought into emphasis as “IX.IIIII” (5:20) takes hold following the residual echo of the song before, fading in with a welcoming swirl of, I don’t know, magic? Did I just beat a dungeon boss? Maybe. Sørensen‘s guitar dares a strum and some notes, and every single one of them sends out ripples as on water through the background of shimmering, sun-reflecting drone. “IX.IIIII” is the shortest inclusion on IX, and fair enough to call it an interlude, but the later low frequency — could be bass, could be cello or keys — stands out all the more for the focused backdrop, and the song ends fluidly to move into the penultimate “IX.IIIIII” (8:47).

“IX.IIIIII” almost can’t help but feel more active, what with drums and bass and all. Clausen reminds that there’s serenity to be found in the low end too, and while the guitar floats overhead in a kind of following-along meander, and the drums provide emphasis and punctuation to the procession as it unfolds, it’s the bass at the center of the track and it’s one more dynamic turn ahead of the extended closer “IX.IIIIIII” to come, which invariably would do well in capturing much of the album’s scope considering unless it was going to make some kind of dramatic shift, which, I mean, it’s a universe of infinite possibility, but Papir do an awful lot of work to establish the atmosphere on IX, and they’re veterans at this point enough to know whether something is going to fit. Bigger though it is, “IX.IIIIIII” still very much fits here.

Admittedly, I’m writing from the perspective of someone for whom Papir are a known quantity, though surely if it’s your first encounter with the band — not gatekeeping or criticizing; they’ve been around for a minute but nobody expects you to hear everything; yes I’m half talking to myself there — they’ll come across as no less welcoming. The difference between IX and some of what they’ve done in the past is that the exploration in this material feels like it already knows where it is and it is where it wants to be. That is to say, in their maturity, Papir aren’t necessarily concerning themselves overmuch with where their flights take them, the point is going, and the way they go is by enacting the chemistry one can hear rampant throughout IX. If there’s escapism to hear, as there often is in something so evocative and pastoral, for the band the escape seems to be in the process of playing and creating itself, rather than something specifically evoked by the music.

This means their command is absolute — it’s not a leap at this point to say, wherever VIII went, that Papir are masters at what they do, and that’s not an opinion I form lightly — and while they obviously delight in sometimes just hitting record and seeing where they end up in a jam, going hard or not, that too is a conscious decision made on the part of the band, whose passion and revelry, even at the most subdued stretches, is carried across with vibrant resonance.

Papir, IX (2025)

Papir on Bandcamp

Papir on Instagram

Papir on Facebook

Stickman Records website

Stickman Records on Bandcamp

Stickman Records on Facebook

Costa Rican sludge metallers Sorewound are set to release their five-track debut EP, Espanto, on Dec. 4 through Cursed Monk Records. The EP consists of five tracks beginning with the grueling, harsh strains of “The Gorge (Where Things Come to Die),” signaling a punishing intent from the outset. The chug that emerges in that leadoff at about two minutes in is faster but dense to the point of opacity, and “Miseria” (premiering below as the second single) follows that with a more mid-paced initial groove and chug. The barking vocals of Fernando Garcia, cutting through the thick distortion from guitarist/vocalist Christopher de Haan (VoidOath, Crypt Monarch) and bassist Pablo Umana, as Felipe Tencio‘s drums wait to punker-gallop the track to its finish.

For atmosphere, a sample from David Lynch’s The Amputee tops most of two-minute interlude “Spitefuck (Te Detesto)” (what I love about that title: 1) it’s bilingual, so you really know they wanted to get the message across; 2) there are no lyrics to the song, so the ‘Te Detesto’ is just a pure parenthetical saying ‘I hate you’) as a woman, who in the film is the titular amputee, writes a letter about relationships or somesuch. It starts with Tencio‘s drums, but eventually a riff joins in as well, swallowing the sampled speech because yes, indeed, sometimes life is like that. Perhaps “Relicarios” feels that much nastier for the comparatively subdued centerpiece stretch just before it, but it’s a peak just the same. You remember all those on-pills Ohio sludge bands from like 15 years ago? Sorewound give those vibes in “Relicarios,” riding a biting riff with a biting verse into a biting solo with some biting noise at the end. Now what would you guess was the artistic intention of a piece like this?

To bite, just to answer my of rhetorical question. Espanto isn’t trying to be subtle about its intent, and just because I’m glib about it doesn’t mean those efforts didn’t produce brutal results. In fact they did, and the EP ends in kind with “Vomitous Trypsteria,” taking a quiet half-minute at the front end to strum out a lonely dirge before the band joins in quieter brooding, more sampled speech over top, building up. They dig into the verse a short time later and the affect is no less violent for the momentary turn. At 23 minutes, Sorewound have enough time to demonstrate to their audience what they’re about on this first EP, and they do that in sharp-tooth-plus-digestive-acid sludgemaking. Whatever their forward trajectory might be, if they’ll grow more or less extreme, build on the hints of ambience here or dig into the rawer aspects, Espanto showcases a willful crush. Don’t be fooled into thinking it’s unconsidered because the sound is raw. These guys know exactly what they’re doing.

PR wire info follows the track on the player below. Please enjoy:

Sorewound, “Miseria” track premiere

Espanto is a raw, distorted storm of 5 songs that sink listeners slowly into the most miserable depths only to pull them back into the surface with violent outbursts of fills and pumping bass work. The guitars focus on maxing distortion and crushing weight. The vocals cut through as rabid animals destroying their surroundings. Lyrics dwell into human despair, corrupt politics, stranded relationships and emptiness in the absence of connection.

Tracklisting:
1. The Gorge (Where Things Come To Die) 06:02
2. Miseria 4:29
3. Spite Fuck (Te Detesto) 2:43
4. Relicarios 4:58
5. Vomitous Trypsteria 5:43

SOREWOUND is:
Felipe Tencio – Drums
Pablo Umana – Bass
Christopher de Haan – Guitars, Vocals
Fernando García – Vocals

Sorewound, Espanto (2025)

Sorewound on Instagram

Cursed Monk Records website

Cursed Monk Records on Bandcamp

Cursed Monk Records on Instagram

Cursed Monk Records on Facebook

Thus ends my favorite Quarterly Review since the last one. Yeah, some of my motivation was in bookkeeping, in wanting to cover this stuff before the year’s done, but trying to keep up is always part of the thing, so that’s nothing new. I am grateful to have spent so much time this listening to music. I get asked a lot to listen to stuff and I’m not sure I’ve ever had less time for hearing new music than I presently have. So take a week and do nothing but that has been fulfilling.

As always, I hope you’ve found something cool to check out, and I hope you tune in for the next one, maybe in December, maybe in January, maybe this is low-key evolving into a monthly thing and eventually I’m going to have to rename the feature — and so on.

Quarterly Review #41-50:

Brant Bjork and the Bros., Live in the High Desert

The difference between Brant Bjork and the Bros. and prior Brant Bjork solo incarnations was that it was the first time the desert rock figurehead had stepped into the role of being a genuine live bandleader. He’d of course toured with solo bands, as he’s continued to, but The Bros. as a backing band gave him the space to shine in a different way onstage, and that comes through in classics like “Too Many Chiefs” and the medleys near the finish of the 78-minute set from 2009 captured on Live in the High Desert, recorded at Pappy & Harriet’s in Pioneertown, CA. I saw this band, and they were hot shit. If you don’t believe me, “Low Desert Punk” here makes the point better than I could, while a piece from the era like “Freaks of Nature” emphasizes the chemistry Bjork and his Bros. fostered during their time. As a follow-up to recent studio LP reissues, as an archival fan-piece, and as nearly 80-minutes of blowout heavy dezzy grooves, this should be an absolute no-brainer for Bjork followers or aficionados.

Brant Bjork website

Duna Records website

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Dresden Wolves, Vol. IV

Mexico City heavy rocking two-piece Dresden Wolves named their six-song EP Vol. IV presumably because by some count it’s their fourth release, but that’s not the same as being their fourth full-length album, if that’s what you were thinking. Here they offer 25 minutes of brash, cymbal-and-low-end-heavy crunch. “Tiempo” has some debut to psychedelia, but mostly in the echo, and the density of the prior “ECO” feels more representative, though with the movement of bassfuzz in “Wherter” I’m not sure one is more weighted than the other. They’re in the element stoner punking in “Robin,” and “Pesadilla” rounds out answering the Sabbathism of “Ketamina” with raw shouts and a swirling current of noise laced around a central shove. They’re not reinventing riffery, but they execute with both personality and a sense of craft while simultaneously bashing away in a manner that my silly lizard brain finds utterly delightful. They’ve been around a decade now. Album?

Dresden Wolves on Bandcamp

Dresden Wolves on Instagram

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Sherpa, Alignment

The obscuring-all-else drones of the nine-minute title-, opening and longest track (immediate points) are the major draw to Alignment, as “Alignment” is the only one of the seven inclusions not previously released in some form. Thus can it be said that Italian experimental psych post-rockers Sherpa remained experimental right up to the very end, as Alignment sees issue as a farewell release, comprised most of demos from Matteo Dossena of what would become Sherpa songs featured on their albums, which is fair enough. There’s sun reflecting on “River Nora” and “The Mother of Language,” from 2018’s second LP Tigris and Euphrates (review here), remains hypnotic even in this raw take, samples and/or field recordings seemingly a part of its skeleton. If you didn’t know Sherpa during their time, Alignment probably isn’t the place to start, since the material isn’t finished, but whatever if it gets you to hear the band.

Sherpa on Bandcamp

Subsound Records website

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Barren Heir, Far From

Crushing. Far From is the third full-length from Chicagoan post-sludge tonebearers Barren Heir, and when “Patient” ends and you feel like you can finally breathe after that four-minute assault, know you’re not alone. Uniformly harsh in vocals, intense in impact and aggression alike, and weighed down by copious amounts of distorted concrete, one piece bleeds into the next as Far From builds momentum through the megariffed “Medicine” and the subsequent, slightly more angular “No Roses,” which seems to get eaten by its own chug before it’s done. The remnants fade into the more peaceful beginning of “Abcesstral,” which serves as a quiet interlude creating tension ahead of the start of “Way In,” which scorches. I guess, if you don’t know the band, what you need to take away is they’re very, very heavy, and they know just where on the upside of your head to hit you with it. There’s a thread of noise rock, but I think maybe it’s just the trio being pissed off, and the blasting away, successive slowdowns and residual noise in closer “Inside a Burning Vehicle” are as punishing an end as Far From justifies. You know I never mention Swarm of the Lotus lightly. Well, here we are.

Barren Heir Linktr.ee

Barren Heir on Bandcamp

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Some Pills for Ayala, Dystopia

There’s a moment about five minutes in, before the solo starts, where opening cut “Little Fingers” sort of settles into its groove, and the effect is an immediate chill on the listener. Néstor Ayala Cortés, vocalist, multi-instrumentalist and the sole denizen of the project, has long specialized in the heavy and languid, and without lacking either activity or swing — lookin’ at you, “Black Rains” — as the melodies touch on a heavy psychedelia only bolstered by the abiding tonal warmth. Three tracks top eight minutes — “Little Fingers,” “Above and Below” and “Falling Down” — and while these are obvious focal points, both for how they dwell in parts and how they differentiate from the shorter pieces that space them out, a song like “Rise to the Surface” or experiments like “Regrets” and “Flying to Nowhere” use their relative brevity as a strength, and while one might as well hang a big old ‘you are here’ sign on Dystopia, the closing title-track, a subdued instrumental flesh-out into a quick fade and the only song under three minutes long, is arguably the most hopeful sounding of the bunch. Go figure. Cortés, like South American heavy as a whole, remains underappreciated, but his songwriting remains vibrant and forward-looking.

Some Pills for Ayala on Bandcamp

Some Pills for Ayala on Instagram

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Stonebirds, Perpetual Wasteland

Cerebral French post-metallers Stonebirds offer their first new music in five years with Perpetual Wasteland, their fifth full-length. The album is comprised of six tracks that range from minimalist guitar standing alone to an explosive, big-the-way-modern-pop-is-big chorus like that of “Sea of Sorrow” (not a cover). Stonebirds might be aggressive, as on “Circles” at the outset, or they might even delve into a bit of post-black metal in “Croak,” but there’s never a point at which Perpetual Wasteland lacks purpose. Each side is three songs, two between five and six minutes and a closer circa eight; I’m telling you the symmetry is multi-tiered. And as destructive as “So Far Away” feels at its start, “The Last Time” mirrors with a more open-sounding approach, lush in melody in a way they’ve been before by then, and still tense in chug, but pulled back in the delivery. They’re dynamic, they have range, and they craft their material with clear consideration of how every second is going to unfold.

Stonebirds on Bandcamp

Ripple Music website

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Yurt, VI – Rippling Mirrors of the Other

VI – Rippling Mirrors of the Other is indeed the sixth LP from Irish space rockers Yurt, as I remind myself that just because I’d never heard the band before doesn’t mean they haven’t been around over 16 years. So it goes. The keyboard-prone three-piece — Andrew Bushe and drums and then some, Steven Anderson on guitar/vocals and sax, and Boz Mugabe on bass, vocals, keys (plus visuals) — find a way to make a classic-style motorik push feel mellow on “From the Maggot’s Perspective,” where “Shop of the Most Auspicious Frog” is more of a freakout and “Seventh is the Skut” is more about the jazzprog instrumental chase. Those three songs are shorter, but the album has three more extended pieces as well in opener “The Cormorant Tree” (15:33), “Pagpag Variations” (16:28) and “Sun Roasted Rodent” (13:30), which unfurl across multiple movements, bringing heavy doomjazz skronk and more experimentalist space rock together in a way that makes me bummed to be late to the party, but also kind of feel like I’m right on time.

Yurt website

Yurt on Bandcamp

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Evoken, Mendacium

As the band are now past the 30-year mark, it is an honor to once again be drenched in Evoken‘s pouring, grey, cold, wretched visions. Mendacium brings eight songs themed, because obviously, around the slow decline and death of a 14th century Benedictine monk, running 62 dug-in minutes of beauty-in-darkness extremity. It is not universally crawling, as “Lauds” and “Sext” move with a poise that feels kin to modern Paradise Lost, but for sure is defined by and uses that sense of slow, grueling churn to bolster its atmosphere, which is duly wood-churchy for its subject matter. They’re not all-pummel, of course, and never were. The penultimate “Vesper” is a brief organ interlude before closer “Compline” lowers you down into the pit to face whatever it is that takes place in the song after the seven-and-a-half-minute mark, and there is a morose peace to be found in the quiet moments throughout, as with what might be their only album this decade, Evoken land that much harder for the emotional weight the songs carry, whatever metaphor might be applied to them.

Evoken website

Profound Lore Records website

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Mourners & Yanomamo, Mourners & Yanomamo Split EP

Oh that’s nasty. You might think you’re ready for what Mourners and Yanomamo are bringing in gutter-dwelling death-doom and gnashing, crush-prone sludge roll, but that isn’t likely to save you as the two Sydney-based acts align for a three-song/20-minute split EP that wastes not a second in terms of efficiency of infliction. Mourners present “It Only Gets Worse,” with a raw punch in its bass chug, low-deathly growls and a sound that’s so down and dense across 11 minutes that it sounds slower than it actually is. It dies loud in a wash of noise to let Yanomamo‘s feedback-and-sample start “Lifefucker,” pointedly miserable in its unfolding. It and the growl-into-a-void-but-the-void-is-you diagnosing of mankind’s miseries in “Self-Inflicted” are shorter together than “It Only Gets Worse,” but more outwardly aggressive, as if to make sure you got spit out after being so thoroughly chewed up. I guess what I’m trying to say is it’s pretty heavy in that the-world-is-dying-and-nobody’s-coming-to-stop-it kind of way.

Yanomamo on Bandcamp

Mourners on Bandcamp

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Muttering Bog, Sword Axe Wizard Cult

The craggy dark-wizard-giving-soon-to-be-unheeded-warnings vocals of Muttering Bog‘s first release, the sludgy Sword Axe Wizard Cult, become a defining aspect. The Winchester, Virginia, band’s lone member, credited only as Ben, hones a raw-throated rasp that, where parts of the album might otherwise be stoner metal, keep a tether to extremity that feels as much born of black metal as Bongzilla. It is a challenging but not unrewarding listen; a just-out-of-the-dirt basement doom that isn’t afraid of being caustic or harsh in its riffy, weedian homage. And yeah, it comes across as pretty rough. Some of the changes are choppy on the drums and such, but hell’s bells, it’s a fully DIY make-and-release-a-thing from one person that pushes limits, is certain to evoke an emotional response, and is absolutely uncompromising in the identity being carved. None of that makes it listenable, if you’re looking for listenability, but it does make it art.

Muttering Bog on Bandcamp

Muttering Bog on Instagram

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It’s all over now, I’ve got momentum on my side. This is day four of the Quarterly Review. The first three days have been nothing but a pleasure on my end, putting them together, and with just today and tomorrow left, I’m feeling pretty good about the entire endeavor. I’m not sure yet if this will be the end of the year as regards QRs, but if it is, it’s a good one to go out on.

And basically to make that determination, I need to look at next month’s schedule and see what’s coming when, when I’ll do things like the year-end poll and my own big end-of-year post. No idea on any of that yet, but I’ll get there. Getting this done in relatively smooth fashion is a help. Thanks for reading and I hope it’s been a good one for you as well.

Quarterly Review #31-40:

Psychedelic Source Records, The Initiation Outlaws

Set to release through Echodelick in the US and Weird Beard Records in the UK, in addition to Psychedelic Source Records‘ own distribution, The Initiation Outlaws brings eight pieces and a full 98-minute double-LP’s worth of cosmic improvised jamming, with a cast of regulars from the Hungarian collective — Bence Ambrus, Máté Varga, Róbert Kránitz, Krisztina Benus, Gergely Szabó — taking part in collaborative exploration with Go Kurosawa of Kikagaku Moyo, who goes from drums to bass to guitar as the release progresses, sliding right into the amorphous methodology of Psychedelic Source Records while distinguishing the heavier push in “Three Golds Reward II” or the snare work on “The King of Magic Colts and Wands I” earlier. Trance-inducing as ever, these captured moments are gorgeously fluid and immersive, active enough in parts like “The King of Magic Colts and Wands II” to defy mellowpsych-improv expectation, but abiding just the same. If you’re not there yet, it’s time to start thinking of Psychedelic Source among Europe’s finest purveyors of heavy psychedelia.

Psychedelic Source Records on Bandcamp

Echodelick Records store

Weird Beard Records store

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Bell Witch & Aerial Ruin, Stygian Bough Vol. II

The forlorn folkishness in the midsection of “Waves Become the Sky” bring to mind an extrapolation of emotive doom from the likes of Warning, but that’s understandable with Aerial Ruin and Bell Witch renewing their collaboration for Stygian Bough Vol. II, following on from a first volume (review here) in 2020. The album takes place over four extended tracks from the rolling density of the aforementioned opener through the minimalist-till-it-isn’t “King of the Wood” and the longform folk-death-doom of “From Dominion Let Them Bleed” and the melancholy triumph of heft wrought in 19-minute finale “The Told and the Leadened,” which dwells in spaces empty and full and remains conscious enough to end with tense noise and drumming. This is artistry on its own wavelength, working in its own time, and patient to a point of extremity. But they do it to offer comfort, make no mistake. There’s consolation in these songs, in addition to all the mourning.

Bell Witch website

Aerial Ruin website

Profound Lore Records website

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Giöbia, X-ÆON

Unrepentantly cosmic Italian outfit Giöbia are like a fresh coat of antimatter for space rock. The four-piece obviously hunkered down in their secret lab after 2023’s Acid Disorder (review here) and worked hard to refine their chemical compositions, such that “Voodoo Experience” nods grounded even as its synth and guitars surge beyond the thermosphere. The results show everywhere throughout X-ÆON in their outsider cohesion of classic and neo-space rocks, heavy psychedelia and oddball synthscaping, whether you’re doing the sensory thing with the dream-jam “1976” or embroiled in the four-part side B concept piece, “La Mort de la Terre,” which draws a cinematic curtain for life as we know it in “Dans la Nuit Éternelle,” a wordless epilogue that feels half a world removed from the stomp-and-verse of “The Death of the Crows,” but of course, that’s the whole idea.

Giöbia website

Heavy Psych Sounds website

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Bone Church, Deliverance

The included acoustic guitar, organ and FM-radio classic rock vibes in the eight-and-a-half-minute closing title-track aren’t a coincidence. They’re part of a stated intention the band had in taking on more of a traditional sound, coming down from some of the harder-hitting doom of 2020’s Acid Communion and working in more of a ’70s-inspired style. That manifests to varying degrees throughout, as leadoff “Electric Execution” feels like it’s working in the vein of “Neon Knights” or “Turn Up the Night” in Dio Sabbathian raucousness (I know that was 1980-81, don’t @ me), and while “Lucifer Rising” has a weighted march, it’s more Scorpions than Sleep, and “Goin’ to Texas” brings in the organ to emphasize the Southern geography of the album’s centerpiece. It’s a striking turn but they pull it off for sure. “Muchachos Muchachin'” has mid-’70s charm to spare, and “Bone Boys Ride Out” seems to bridge the more modern attack of Bone Church-prior with who they are today. Not every progression plays out like you think it will, and if this is the band Bone Church have wanted to be all along, they sound accordingly right to have made the redirect.

Bone Church on Bandcamp

Ripple Music website

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Js Donny, Death Folk

The ‘soft scream’ vocals give Js Donny‘s Death Folk an immediate sense of extremity, but it’s a quiet extremity. The French solo artist — who also plays bass in adventurous Marseilles sludgers Donna Candy — released an EP with a full lineup in 2023, but this six-song/33-minute offering is more intimate. Js Donny dwells in the quiet, creepy spaces the songs create, the vocal gurgle giving shades of otherworldliness and malevolence alike. It’s called Death Folk, but especially with the electrified/distorted wash that takes hold in “Not Like That” and again at the outset of closer “Black Heart” — a biting tone, like harsher blackgaze — I can’t help but wonder if Js Donny isn’t working in a kind of post-death-metallic framing. There are no drums, which is a fair trade for what’s gained in grim ambience, but even without, the album is clear in manifesting both sides of its title, and while Js Donny isn’t the only one laying claim to death-folk as a style, how it happens here sure feels like an act of genre creation.

Js Donny on Bandcamp

Bamboo Shoes on Bandcamp

29Speedway on Bandcamp

Chrüsimüsi Records on Bandcamp

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Nuclear Dudes, Skeletal Blasphemy

In some distant future, when the history is written of our idiotic, persistently awful time, no one will ever say, “and the right-thinking people of the day had no choice but to seek refuge in avant garde cybergrind,” and that’s why history is bullshit. Skeletal Blasphemy is the third album from Nuclear Dudes and second of 2025 behind September’s Truth Paste (review here) — keep ’em coming — and is the solo-project’s most vicious and realized offering to-date. Spearhead Jon Weisnewski (Sandrider, ex-Akimbo) brings powerviolent catharsis on “Victory Pants,” the title-track and assorted others, working in collaboration with guest drummer Coady Willis (High on Fire, Big Business, Melvins), and whether it’s the punker push in “Bad Body” or the slow, undulations of the closing “The Octopus” and the burgeoning thread of progressive melody throughout these songs, it’s exactly the sort of self-bludgeoning that being alive right now requires. Album of the year? Fuck you, fuck the year, and fuck capitalism.

Nuclear Dudes on Bandcamp

The Ghost is Clear Records website

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Kronstad 23, Sommermørket

With an instrumentalist foot in progressive, horn-inclusive jazz, heavy psychedelic fluidity and a resonant warmth of tone alongside a will to meander, Kronstad 23 feel tailor-made for El Paraiso Records, run by members of Denmark’s Causa Sui. Sommermørket is the Norwegian outfit’s debut album and without sounding consumed by its own ambition to do so, it organically nestles the band in a stylistic niche that allows for the explorations in “Caesar” and “Astralreiser,” the latter of which will seem barely there in its early going at low volumes, to exist along the daring-toward-dancey opener “Dølgsmål” and building a kind of dreamy tension between the guitar and drums on “Trosten,” with none of it feeling out of place. They’ll invariably get comparisons to Kanaan, but the foundation is different and the delivery gentler, with “Helgen” finding its way on drum rolls and key/guitar drift into a classic-prog horn section in a payoff that’s somewhat understated until you look back across the five and a half minutes and see how far you’ve come. I can’t wait to hear how they grow.

Kronstad 23 on Instagram

El Paraiso Records website

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Rolls the River, Love of Driving

“Love of Driving” is the debut single from newcomer New Jersey-based krautrock-minded two-piece Rolls the River. The band brings together Dan Kirwan of Pyre Fyre on bass, guitar and vocals, and Victor Marinelli on guitar, synth, drums and vocals for a sub-five-minute cosmic reachout, obviously schooled in where it’s coming from — that is to say, one doesn’t krautrock by accident; it is a form to adopt and refine — but still feeling like an initial exploration of both style and composition. Fading in on an initial keyboardy drone, the guitar and drums come in together and the neospace shuffle is mellow as layers are added, guitar, keys, but the sense of movement brought to “Love of Driving” is enough to explain the title, whatever you might think of the Garden State’s highway system. Rather than get caught up in jughandles, though, Rolls the River harness tonal presence and linear development and still find room to include voice as part of the atmosphere. Formative, and an encouraging start.

Rolls the River on Bandcamp

Rolls the River on Instagram

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Psychonaut, World Maker

Belgium’s Psychonaut may yet teach progressive metal a lesson or two. The post-metal three-piece reach what sure feels in “Endless Currents” like a new level of expression and craft, and while at 11 songs and 60 minutes, World Maker isn’t a minor undertaking — one could easily argue making a world takes time — the utter consumption achieved in “All in Time,” which I won’t spoil any further, the blissful wash of “…Everything Else is Just the Weather” are not to be missed, and worth whatever minor investment of attention span might be required. Exciting as the intermittent metallic surges are, “Endless Erosion” caps in a quiet place, and the atmospherics across the first two and a half minutes of “Origins,” just as one example, help to bring a feeling of place (of ‘world’) to the procession. It is a vivid place Psychonaut have made, and there are listeners for whom the melodies of World Maker will be transcendental.

Psychonaut on Bandcamp

Pelagic Records website

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Cabfighter, The Sea Between Stars

Following an apparent 2024 EP called Anachronist that is below because this debut album isn’t streaming yet that I can find, The Sea Between Stars — a suitably romantic framing of what you might otherwise call ‘the void’ — brings a progressive take to classic-style doom rock. The Oregonian five-piece roll out a genuine feeling of dynamic across the album’s 10 tracks, from the proto-metal shove of “Knightrider” at the outset to the later rush and wail of “Sky Sized Heart,” to the doom-epic ballad reach of “Bridge of Irreconcilable Sorrow” to the acoustic turn in the last movement of “The Words We Don’t Speak” and variable but unifyingly soulful vocal arrangements throughout, up to the minimal voice-and-piano closer “Ghost Notes” or the duet in the crescendo of “Still Breathing.” Ambition set in balance with organic production and songwriting. I don’t know when The Sea Between Stars is coming out, if it’s now-ish, early 2026 or what, but if you want to take this as an early heads up, do.

Cabfighter on Bandcamp

Cabfighter on Instagram

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I was gonna do this whole week, happy Monday, happy Tuesday, happy Wednesday, but I happen to feel like an asshole typing the words “happy Wednesday,” so I’m going to refrain. Hope your week isn’t awful, in any case.

Or if it is, I hope music can help make it better. This Quarterly Review has been a breeze thus far and looking at the lineup for today I expect the trend to continue. Thanks for hanging in with it. We pass the halfway mark today and will wrap up on Friday, with 50 releases covered throughout the week.

Quarterly Review #21-30:

Amorphis, Borderland

Yeah, okay, you can go ahead and cancel the rest of the review. Yup, I know. I’d love to sit here and talk about how Finland’s Amorphis, some 35 years and upwards of 16 full-lengths later, are still refining their processes, conjuring melodic intricacy, and celebrating death metal in kind. I’d love to talk about the progressive strains in Borderland, or about how as recognizable as Amorphis are, they’re still able to find new ways to balance the keys and guitar, or to switch up the vocals, or even just to chug proggier on “Light and Shadow” and “Fog to Fod,” whatever it might be. I’d love to talk about all of that, but you see, the thing is… “Bones.” Specifically, the riff thereof, swept into with crushing majesty and rolled forth with knows-what-it-has certainty of the type one would expect from a long-established pro-shop genre-innovating band like Amorphis. I could go on about all the other stuff, but that riff is gonna be all you need to know ahead of time. I’ll hope to have it in my head for the next year or so.

Amorphis website

Reigning Phoenix Music website

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Joe Hasselvander, Fire on the Mountain

One could spend the rest of this space recounting Joe Hasselvander‘s pedigree, from Death Row to Pentagram to Raven to The Hounds of Haseelvander, with stints in countless others including Blue Cheer besides, but that doesn’t tell you much about the doom of Fire on the Mountain. Hasselvander‘s third solo outing under his name and first in 25 years follows a traditional pattern of Doom Capitol blue-collar riffing that, it has to be acknowledged, Hasselvander had a part in establishing, while the man himself plays all instruments and handles vocals, at time with a bit of a lounge-singer edge with spoken lines, but when he reaches for the higher note in third cut “Holy Water,” a big moment in the song, it’s there for him. “Prodigal Sun” is one of several images taken from the bible and would seem to be autobiographical, and he ends with a fitting apex of nod and shred in “Darkest Before the Dawn.” He’s said he has plans for more, and indeed, Fire on the Mountain sounds more like a beginning than an end.

Joe Hasselvander on Facebook

Savant Guarde Records on Bandcamp

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Kariti, Still Life

A current of crackling, tube-heating distortion begins in “Spine,” which introduces Kariti‘s third album, Still Life, and indeed even amid the The Keening-esque piano of “Nothing” and the title-track a short time later, that hard-toned drone becomes a backbone for the material. It’s not always there — arrangements are fluid around the central guitar/keys/voice — but for an artist working in a style so intentionally mindful of aesthetic, the My Bloody Valentine-esque noise swell of “Suicide by a Thousand Cuts,” the emergence of the static in “Naiznanku” and the rumble behind the closing prayer “Baptism” bring dark avant garde experimentalism to traditionalist melodies. This is what Kariti has been developing since 2020’s Covered Mirrors (review here), working with guitarist Marco Matta on a deepening collaboration. While retaining folkish intimacy thanks to the quiet stretches around this distorted crunch (looking at you, “Purge”), Kariti has never sounded farther-reaching.

Kariti Linktr.ee

Lay Bare Recordings website

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Burning Sister, Ghosts

They don’t make ’em like Burning Sister anymore, and listening to Ghosts, I’m less sure they ever did. Because as much as the Colorado now-twosome of bassist/vocalist/synthesist Steve Miller and drummer Alison Salutz continue to foster a druggy ’90s-type slackerism amid all the crash in opener “Brokedick Icarus” and the drawling march of “No Space or Time,” they’ve also never quite sounded as much themselves. There’s psychedelic shimmer in the noise swirling in the later reaches of “Stellar Ghost,” and “Lethe//Oblivion” (premiered here) is made all the more a ceremony with the thread of synth and/or amplifier hum. Meanwhile, “Swerve (Dead Stars)” would work as a new wave arrangement, I can feel it, and the longest-song-by-a-second “Dead Love” (7:20) closes with a thrilling roll and languid procession, reinforcing the downerism that’s been essential to Burning Sister since their outset. Whatever comes in the future, being a duo suits these songs.

Burning Sister on Bandcamp

Burning Sister on Instagram

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The Lunar Effect, Fortune’s Always Hiding

A quick turnaround third full-length from London’s The Lunar Effect will be nothing to complain about for those who (like me) got on board with the London heavy rock outfit via last year’s Sounds of Green and Blue (review here). Also on Svart, the follow-up brims with cohesion in its songwriting and purpose in its twists, with the opener “Feed the Hand” establishing the command that proves unwavering through “Watchful Eye,” the brash speed-shuffler “Five and Two” and the lonely sway of “My Blue Veins” before “Stay With Me” modernizes Graveyardian soul en route to the grunge-riffed centerpiece “Settle Down.” The dynamic continues to expand with the piano-led “I Disappear” speaking to a burgeoning reach in songwriting, while “A New Moon Rises” regrounds and “Scotoma” smoothly finds a niche in desert rock that probably hundreds of bands wish they could make their own, and “Nailed to the Sky” rounds out by going big on tone and emotionality alike. So far, these guys are a better band than people know. They inject a little drama to these proceedings, and it sounds like there’s more to come.

The Lunar Effect website

Svart Records website

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King Cruel, Sky Eater

While the closing title-track has a thread of prog metal that reminds of mid-period Devin Townsend, Auckland, New Zealand’s King Cruel back their 2023 Creeper three-song EP with a marked sense of atmosphere, the melodies of careening lead track “Haunting Time” calling to mind Boston’s Worshipper in their metallic underpinnings, shred and thoughtful melody. Sky Eater is my first exposure to the band, whose style balances mood and impact smoothly, and whose hooks are inviting without being cloying, as in “Diamond Darya,” which digs in and rides its central riff with a stoner rocker’s dedication and a poise that comes from knowing why they’re doing it. The aforementioned capper is the catchiest of the bunch, but King Cruel, goal-wise, have more in their sights than catchiness, and given the sprawl they lay out here, one can’t help but wonder if a debut album won’t be next.

King Cruel Linktr.ee

King Cruel on Bandcamp

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Angad Berar, Sundae

I won’t claim to know how it was made, between what’s improvised, layered in, overdubbed, conjured from ethereal planes beyond the limits of understanding, and so on, but Angad Berar‘s eight-track/50-minute Sundae is indeed a sweet dish of psychedelic immersion. The Berlin-based solo artist made it in collaboration with guitarist/synthesist/bassist Kartik Pillai, while drummer Siddharth Kaushik sits in on the 10-minute penultimate cut and vocalist Chrisrah guests on the only song that isn’t a numbered jam, the moody mellow liquefier “Driving With You” before “Jam #3” and the horn sounds of “Jam #4” re-immerse the listener in slow-churning fluidity. “Jam #6,” with the live drums and extended runtime, is pointedly hypnotic in its first half, but has some Endless Boogie-type rock angularity later that makes it fun, while the closing “Jam #7” offers a seven-minute drone meditation before handing the listener back over to reality. Serenity abounds if you know where to find it.

Angad Berar on Bandcamp

Stickman Records store

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Trevor’s Head, Fall Toward the Sun // Majesty and Harmony

Admirably celebrating their 15th anniversary in 2025 with touring and new music, UK melodic heavy rockers Trevor’s Head bring the Abbey Road-recorded “Fall Toward the Sun” and “Majesty and Harmony” together, not quite to encapsulate their sound or everything they’ve accomplished in their time, but to typify the ethic of marking the occasion by doing the thing itself; that is, they’re writing music because it’s what they love to do. “Fall Toward the Sun” and “Majesty and Harmony” both have an edge of aired-out ’90s-type noise rock — nothing new for Trevor’s Head in terms of style — but where they hit you with it up front in the first song, the latter holds its payoff in reserve for when they depart the titular harmonies and get to the surge of crunch in the midsection. Running seven minutes total, you wouldn’t accuse Trevor’s Head of overindulging, but instead, they give their fans and followers something new to dig into that in ethic and realization can only serve as a reminder of their appeal in the first place.

Trevor’s Head Linktr.ee

APF Records website

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Ravine, Chaos and Catastrophes

Burl, crunch, lumber, crush, groove and sprawl — the Rob Wrong (Witch Mountain)-recorded debut full-length from Portland, Oregon, riffchucking five-piece Ravine knows from whence it hails. There are some flashes of cosmic intention, but sludgier, earthbound nods pervade the five-track/47-minute outing, which holds its ambition not in a performative stylistic overreach — that is to say, Ravine are who they are musically; there’s no pretense here as they hit you with it straight forward — but in the course each of these tracks takes. Their heaviest onslaught might be in the willfully, almost gleefully grueling “Ennui,” of course the centerpiece, but even there Ravine aren’t content just to doom, or rock, or sludge out, etc., instead working to create a sense of momentum within the songs as each follows its own path, marking out its own place while adding to the whole. They’re not done growing, and I don’t think the balance of their approach is settled, but given what they already lay out, that’s a strength in their favor. This is the kind of debut that makes friends.

Ravine on Bandcamp

Ripple Music store

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Malgomaj, Valfiskens Buk

Sweden’s Malgomaj aren’t through the opening title-track (a bookending two-parter) of Valfiskens Buk before they’ve put forth primo hard boogie and inventive Sabbathry, classic in influence, modern in production/execution, and continuing to brim with movement as “Rembrants Skugga” and the softshow-ready “Hej Hej Malgomaj” back it. I suppose the elephant in the room here is Graveyard, but “Värddjur” has more Motörheaded foundations, and the instrumental “Itera Mot Solnedgången” hints toward Westernism before the seven-minute “Cyklopisk Betong” flattens with its early riff only to redirect to ’60s-ish garage jangle, so one wouldn’t accuse Malgomaj on this apparent debut of being singleminded, but neither are they lacking cohesion or flow between songs. “Stöttingfjället Rämnar” answers the heft of the track prior and “Det Är Nåt Fel På Solen” sets a languid march before “Valfiskens Buk Del 2” reprises the opener to make the album sound all the more complete, whether you speak the language or not.

Malgomaj Linktr.ee

Ostron Records website

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