This is a calculated retreat from solace, a deliberate denial of the melodic light Evoken permitted on their previous work. Mendacium is an engine of oppressive reckoning, an austere and architectural monument to despair. Its primary function is to map the absolute topography of collapse, using the Divine Office, the cycle of monastic prayer, as the cruel, structural framework for psychological ruin.
The concept is hauntingly simple yet devastatingly effective: an elderly, dying monk, confined by illness, faces an entity emerging from a tear in reality. The eight track titles, from Matins to Compline, mark the final, spiralling chronicle of his faith's failure. This is time-keeping inverted; each passing hour acts as a metric for increasing chaos, not diminishing it.
Evoken achieves this claustrophobic mood through sheer physical resistance. The guitar tone is not a wall of sound, but the audio of collapsing stonework, a dark weight that suggests the entire structure of the monastery is bearing down on the listener. The rhythms move with a solemn, relentless visceral trudge, the drums hitting with the cold, unforgiving authority of an inevitable mechanism. They expertly avoid simple 'loudness' in favour of depth, the sound of something enormous sinking slowly.
The contrast is everything here. The crushing, death-doom foundation, the external, physical terror is fractured by the subtle, almost spectral keyboard work. These synth lines are not gothic grandeur; they are the hissing echo of self-doubt, the sound of the mind turning in on itself. Tracks like Terce utilize this counterpoint brilliantly, letting moments of high-frequency shimmer bleed through the low-end concrete, suggesting the fragile, fracturing consciousness fighting the physical reality of its doom.
This is the central, unsettling mechanism of Mendacium: it forces the listener into the subject’s dilemma. The protracted running times feel necessary, every minute of the nine and ten-minute tracks serves a structural purpose, refusing to rush the narrative of torment. The closing track, Compline offers no comfort. It is the final application of brutal, bludgeoning force, leaving the space saturated with dread and the cold certainty that the question of 'truth' (Mendacium) is irrelevant, only the process of ruin is real. This record is a rigorous, deeply textured statement on the failure of structure to contain chaos. 9/10
Wings Of Steel – Winds Of Time (Two Stallions Records) [Cherie Curtis]
Wings Of Steel brings us 8 tracks of mighty heavy metal anthems. They sound exactly as you think they would. With their long hair and bandanas, they are nostalgic with influences from the late 80s like bands such as Iron Maiden and Scorpion.
The concept is hauntingly simple yet devastatingly effective: an elderly, dying monk, confined by illness, faces an entity emerging from a tear in reality. The eight track titles, from Matins to Compline, mark the final, spiralling chronicle of his faith's failure. This is time-keeping inverted; each passing hour acts as a metric for increasing chaos, not diminishing it.
Evoken achieves this claustrophobic mood through sheer physical resistance. The guitar tone is not a wall of sound, but the audio of collapsing stonework, a dark weight that suggests the entire structure of the monastery is bearing down on the listener. The rhythms move with a solemn, relentless visceral trudge, the drums hitting with the cold, unforgiving authority of an inevitable mechanism. They expertly avoid simple 'loudness' in favour of depth, the sound of something enormous sinking slowly.
The contrast is everything here. The crushing, death-doom foundation, the external, physical terror is fractured by the subtle, almost spectral keyboard work. These synth lines are not gothic grandeur; they are the hissing echo of self-doubt, the sound of the mind turning in on itself. Tracks like Terce utilize this counterpoint brilliantly, letting moments of high-frequency shimmer bleed through the low-end concrete, suggesting the fragile, fracturing consciousness fighting the physical reality of its doom.
This is the central, unsettling mechanism of Mendacium: it forces the listener into the subject’s dilemma. The protracted running times feel necessary, every minute of the nine and ten-minute tracks serves a structural purpose, refusing to rush the narrative of torment. The closing track, Compline offers no comfort. It is the final application of brutal, bludgeoning force, leaving the space saturated with dread and the cold certainty that the question of 'truth' (Mendacium) is irrelevant, only the process of ruin is real. This record is a rigorous, deeply textured statement on the failure of structure to contain chaos. 9/10
Smote – Songs From The Free House (Rocket Recordings) [Cherie Curtis]
Songs From The Free House is only 5 tracks, so it’s more of a composition than your usual casual listen. It's unlike anything I've ever heard. It's an album that showcases technical ability rather than catchy tunes, featuring very little vocals, and when they do, its’s deep Viking-esque choral style or spoken dialogue.
Songs From The Free House is only 5 tracks, so it’s more of a composition than your usual casual listen. It's unlike anything I've ever heard. It's an album that showcases technical ability rather than catchy tunes, featuring very little vocals, and when they do, its’s deep Viking-esque choral style or spoken dialogue.
Songs From The Free House doesn’t tell you a story, they give you one to tell. It’s an experience and at no point did I feel like I was just listening to an album - I felt like i was in it. I often listen to new albums on my commute to work, and while listening to this album I had to stop for a break as I was so engrossed I could’ve easily gone the wrong way.
If this album came out any sooner Stanley Kubrick would have snatched it up to be the score for 2001: A Space Odyssey. Although Smote doesn't feature classical music in their albums, the atmosphere and overall texture and dynamics of the track would serve this film - or any sci-fi film - really well.
Each track features a range of sounds and instruments; synths, pipes and strings with lots of bass, and some others I can't identify. The bass provides an ominous pulse through each track and shrill synthesizers which puts us on edge. There is an impending doom to these tracks going between dark ethereal and a peaceful floaty- ness. The dynamic build ups and breakdowns feel like crashing waves.
Overall, I believe it's a technical masterpiece. I feel like I’ve investigated the depths of a black hole and seen an alternate universe. It’s not something I would put on for a trip around Tesco - it’s an album best reserved for after dark. Masterful and unique. 10/10
Tol Morwen - At The Gates Of Valhalla (Self Released) [Spike]
There’s something quietly impressive about Tol Morwen on At The Gates of Valhalla. Branded as Death Folk, it’s a style that immediately challenges expectations being not quite fully folk, not fully metal, and yet unmistakably both. The album doesn’t chase immediate hooks or easy thrills; instead, it unfolds deliberately, rewarding listeners who allow themselves to inhabit the world the band has built.
The opening instrumental, At War With Odin, sets the tone with sombre acoustic patterns that feel like the echo of some long-forgotten battlefield. It leads seamlessly into Fate Of Gods, where the guitars gain heft and the melodies begin to feel almost heroic, threading between shadow and light. Ragnar continues this, a track that carries a sense of urgency and narrative. It’s easy to picture warriors moving across frozen plains as the riffs march onward.
Invoking The Thunder God and The Shieldmaiden highlight the band’s ability to balance intensity with texture. The former is muscular, almost cinematic, while the latter leans into softer acoustic flourishes without losing momentum. The arrangements are meticulous; the layering of instruments, the pacing of each section, and the restrained use of dynamics all show a band in control of their craft.
Mid-album, tracks like Unchained and Sea Serpent push the narrative further, blending intricate riffs and rhythmic patterns with moments of reflective calm. The songs feel like chapters in a saga, each with a distinct character, yet forming part of a cohesive whole. To Slay The Traitor King and Rise Of The Ancient Gods build towards climactic moments where melody, aggression, and atmosphere converge. By the time the closing O Ghostly Fire arrives, the record leaves you with a sense of having traversed an expansive, mythic landscape.
Technically, the band are very strong. The riffs are precise, the structures carefully arranged, and the execution consistent across the ten tracks. Yet while it’s easy to admire the musicianship, I never fully connected with the material on an emotional level. This is not a criticism, it’s more a reflection of how certain albums resonate differently with different listeners. There’s a restraint here, a measured quality that’s deliberate but can make it feel elusive on first listen.
In the end, At The Gates Of Valhalla is a record of substance. It’s ambitious, thoughtfully composed, and confidently executed. Even if it didn’t immediately spark the connection I usually seek, it’s clear that Tol Morwen are carving their own niche, one that merges myth, melancholy, and metal with skill and purpose. For those intrigued by the intersection of folk storytelling and death metal intensity, this is a record that deserves attention and repeated exploration. 7/10
Overall, I believe it's a technical masterpiece. I feel like I’ve investigated the depths of a black hole and seen an alternate universe. It’s not something I would put on for a trip around Tesco - it’s an album best reserved for after dark. Masterful and unique. 10/10
Tol Morwen - At The Gates Of Valhalla (Self Released) [Spike]
There’s something quietly impressive about Tol Morwen on At The Gates of Valhalla. Branded as Death Folk, it’s a style that immediately challenges expectations being not quite fully folk, not fully metal, and yet unmistakably both. The album doesn’t chase immediate hooks or easy thrills; instead, it unfolds deliberately, rewarding listeners who allow themselves to inhabit the world the band has built.
The opening instrumental, At War With Odin, sets the tone with sombre acoustic patterns that feel like the echo of some long-forgotten battlefield. It leads seamlessly into Fate Of Gods, where the guitars gain heft and the melodies begin to feel almost heroic, threading between shadow and light. Ragnar continues this, a track that carries a sense of urgency and narrative. It’s easy to picture warriors moving across frozen plains as the riffs march onward.
Invoking The Thunder God and The Shieldmaiden highlight the band’s ability to balance intensity with texture. The former is muscular, almost cinematic, while the latter leans into softer acoustic flourishes without losing momentum. The arrangements are meticulous; the layering of instruments, the pacing of each section, and the restrained use of dynamics all show a band in control of their craft.
Mid-album, tracks like Unchained and Sea Serpent push the narrative further, blending intricate riffs and rhythmic patterns with moments of reflective calm. The songs feel like chapters in a saga, each with a distinct character, yet forming part of a cohesive whole. To Slay The Traitor King and Rise Of The Ancient Gods build towards climactic moments where melody, aggression, and atmosphere converge. By the time the closing O Ghostly Fire arrives, the record leaves you with a sense of having traversed an expansive, mythic landscape.
Technically, the band are very strong. The riffs are precise, the structures carefully arranged, and the execution consistent across the ten tracks. Yet while it’s easy to admire the musicianship, I never fully connected with the material on an emotional level. This is not a criticism, it’s more a reflection of how certain albums resonate differently with different listeners. There’s a restraint here, a measured quality that’s deliberate but can make it feel elusive on first listen.
In the end, At The Gates Of Valhalla is a record of substance. It’s ambitious, thoughtfully composed, and confidently executed. Even if it didn’t immediately spark the connection I usually seek, it’s clear that Tol Morwen are carving their own niche, one that merges myth, melancholy, and metal with skill and purpose. For those intrigued by the intersection of folk storytelling and death metal intensity, this is a record that deserves attention and repeated exploration. 7/10
Wings Of Steel – Winds Of Time (Two Stallions Records) [Cherie Curtis]
Wings Of Steel brings us 8 tracks of mighty heavy metal anthems. They sound exactly as you think they would. With their long hair and bandanas, they are nostalgic with influences from the late 80s like bands such as Iron Maiden and Scorpion.
Wings Of Steel ticks every box; masterful instrumentals, superb vocals and harmonies with suspensefully long intros, beautiful lyrics, and produced very well throughout. They give us signature soaring vocals with outstanding sustain and harp articulate guitar solos combined with memorable choruses. Winds Of Time ranges from a loud racing pace to slow melancholy, which I personally like within an album. There's a track for every mood.
This album was a joy to listen to and tracks like To Die In Holy War will be mosh pit fuel. It’s an overall crowd pleaser. The only reason I don't rate this one higher is that for me (and it's common within this genre) is that along with the length of the tracks and style, it does feel repetitive at times. 8/10
This album was a joy to listen to and tracks like To Die In Holy War will be mosh pit fuel. It’s an overall crowd pleaser. The only reason I don't rate this one higher is that for me (and it's common within this genre) is that along with the length of the tracks and style, it does feel repetitive at times. 8/10
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