Ever had that feeling where the world is ending but you’ve found a really comfortable sofa? That’s the vibe here. Poland’s premier purveyors of the "green abyss", Belzebong, have returned with The End Is High, and frankly, it’s a total relief to hear a band that still understands that if you haven't got a decent riff, you haven't got a leg to stand on. No vocals. No frills. Just monolithic, instrumental stoner doom that moves with the glacial, sticky inevitability of spilt treacle.
I've been listening to this stuff for ages now, and most bands forget that "slow" doesn't have to mean "boring." These lads? They get it.
The opener Bong & Chain is a ten-minute lesson in tectonic movement. It’s got that thick, fuzz-drenched tone that makes your actual skull vibrate, properly cavernous stuff. I found myself wondering if they’d recorded it inside a hollowed-out mountain, but knowing this lot, it’s probably just a very expensive pedalboard and a lot of patience. It’s relentless. It’s heavy. It’s the sonic equivalent of being slowly buried in warm ash.
Then you get 420 Horsemen, which aside from having a title that’s a bit of a wink and a nudge is a masterclass in the mid-paced groove. The solos on this one are genuinely surprising; they sort of swirl around the heavy lifting like psychedelic sparks in a dark room. It’s got a mammoth feel that far outweighs its five-minute runtime.
Is it revolutionary? Probably not. But does it hit the spot when you want to feel the floorboards groan? Absolutely.
Hempnotized and Reefer Mortis (again, the names are what they are) keep the pressure high. The former leans into a more hypnotic, repetitive trance that might actually be dangerous if you’re operating heavy machinery. There’s a simplicity to what they do that has to be admired, it’s honest music for people who appreciate the low-end frequencies that turn your internal organs into jelly.
Perhaps the production is a tad too clean for the real "crust" enthusiasts, it’s got that professional Heavy Psych Sounds sheen but the sheer weight of the compositions keeps it grounded. It’s an album for the final procession. If the world is going to look like a burnt-out husk, at least we’ve got a decent soundtrack for the journey. 8/10
Bizarrekult – Alt Som Finnes (Season Of Mist) [Rick Eaglestone]
Bizarrekult returns with Alt Som Finnes — a third studio album born from personal crisis, searching introspection, and an unflinching desire to confront all there is.
The opening track Hun wastes absolutely no time — a seething wall of crazed riffs and blistering howls that very much establishes the template for what follows. This feels like a genuine statement of intent that maintains the elements that have seen Bizarrekult carve out a fiercely individual niche within the Norwegian post-black metal scene.
Blikket Hennes finds the album hitting its stride early — the all-consuming darkness of a guilty conscience rendered in dense, buzzing riffs and a vocal performance that cuts like broken glass — this right here is quintessential Bizarrekult.
Blikket Hennes finds the album hitting its stride early — the all-consuming darkness of a guilty conscience rendered in dense, buzzing riffs and a vocal performance that cuts like broken glass — this right here is quintessential Bizarrekult.
This is exactly how Roman V. has maintained his status as one of post-black metal’s most intriguing figures — this has not been a quick rise but a well-measured campaign of deeply personal, quality craftsmanship that is very well executed and more importantly, authentic. The guest contribution from Yusaf “Vicotnik” Parvez of Dødheimsgard is an absolute masterstroke here — his soothing cleans breaking through the murk with an almost spectral grace that you simply have to hear to fully appreciate, nothing short of stunning in how effectively it reframes everything around it.
Avmakt serves as a brief but necessary intensity shift — surging and seething in a fight for control before losing power entirely amidst melodies that fall then fade like dying pinpricks of light — and what an introduction it is to Håp, which features devastating dynamic shifts with a searching, meditative quality that alongside some brilliantly executed melodic progressions ticks all the boxes for me.
Avmakt serves as a brief but necessary intensity shift — surging and seething in a fight for control before losing power entirely amidst melodies that fall then fade like dying pinpricks of light — and what an introduction it is to Håp, which features devastating dynamic shifts with a searching, meditative quality that alongside some brilliantly executed melodic progressions ticks all the boxes for me.
This is why I consider Avmakt the album’s absolute highlight. The most relentless and aggressive delivery follows with Drøm, which features a stunning multilingual dimension courtesy of Lina from Predatory Void — her vocals adding a layer of haunted desperation that elevates the track considerably.
Verdens Verste brings the album back to where it had been previously, again using a wealth of dynamic shifts which on this occasion delves more into the post-metal ambient passages, but again the power, gut-wrenching rawness combined with atmospheric depth is certainly a cocktail that Bizarrekult delivers so well. The riff style here is particularly inspired, managing to feel both familiar and ferocious.
Tomhet has a nice, bleakly cathartic vibe overall, but the darkness is never too far away — and remarkably, this closer breaks new ground as the first Bizarrekult song sung in English, with Kim Song Sternkopf of MØL lending additional vocal textures. If you’ve been following the post-black metal movement, I don’t think you would disagree that this would fit in perfectly alongside the genre’s modern classics — the passages where the clean vocals wash over the underlying heaviness are just so well developed and executed with precision.
It is wave upon wave of searingly crafted riffs all wrapped in a ball of unbridled Norwegian post-black fury, tempered by genuine vulnerability and collaborative brilliance. Every layer given space to breathe but none allowed to diminish the crushing cumulative weight of the whole.
A searingly personal and devastatingly expansive post-black metal triumph. 7/10
Darklore – The Great Elven War (Self-Release) [Rick Eaglestone]
Verdens Verste brings the album back to where it had been previously, again using a wealth of dynamic shifts which on this occasion delves more into the post-metal ambient passages, but again the power, gut-wrenching rawness combined with atmospheric depth is certainly a cocktail that Bizarrekult delivers so well. The riff style here is particularly inspired, managing to feel both familiar and ferocious.
Tomhet has a nice, bleakly cathartic vibe overall, but the darkness is never too far away — and remarkably, this closer breaks new ground as the first Bizarrekult song sung in English, with Kim Song Sternkopf of MØL lending additional vocal textures. If you’ve been following the post-black metal movement, I don’t think you would disagree that this would fit in perfectly alongside the genre’s modern classics — the passages where the clean vocals wash over the underlying heaviness are just so well developed and executed with precision.
It is wave upon wave of searingly crafted riffs all wrapped in a ball of unbridled Norwegian post-black fury, tempered by genuine vulnerability and collaborative brilliance. Every layer given space to breathe but none allowed to diminish the crushing cumulative weight of the whole.
A searingly personal and devastatingly expansive post-black metal triumph. 7/10
Darklore – The Great Elven War (Self-Release) [Rick Eaglestone]
Seven years on from their debut The Evil Of Man Brisbane's blackened fantasy collective Darklore are back drawing from fantasy worlds so vivid you half expect to find yourself picking up a sword before the first song with The Great Elven War.
Opener The Hunting Grounds does not ease you in – it announces Darklore with total authority, marching tempos and orchestral grandeur arriving together in a way that sets the tone for everything that follows. By the time the riff locks in properly you are already committed, and at nearly nine minutes it earns every second.
Then comes one of the pre-release singles and easy to see why Descendants Of The Pale Moon is the story of fallen knights resurrected by a mysterious elven priestess and sent back to reclaim what was taken from them, and the music absolutely matches the drama of that concept. Soaring symphonics, aggressive guitar passages, and a colossal chorus that captures the march toward destiny. If you need one track to convince a friend of what this band is about, this is your first port of call.
At over nine and a half minutes The Beast Of Beauclair this is the album's longest track, and it absolutely justifies the runtime. Those Witcher 3 influences the band have spoken about are all over this one – there is a dark, morally complex quality to the atmosphere that makes it feel like a story being told rather than just a song being performed. The dynamics shift throughout with real purpose and the payoff when it finally arrives is enormous.
Told from the perspective of Sauron himself as the hunt for the One Ring begins anew, Servants Of Sauron is the most direct and punishing track on the record. It is lean, relentless, and full of imagery of fire and shadow and conquest that the band deliver with absolute conviction. The shortest track on the album and it hits like a hammer – a future festival favourite without question.
This is followed by The North Remembers, a colourful centrepiece for the album and one of the most melodically rich tracks Darklore have written – it opens with light keyboards before the drums get going and carries that sense of momentum all the way through. There are Game Of Thrones echoes in the title, and you can feel them in the atmosphere, a kind of political grandeur sitting beneath the metal fury. It runs headlong into the next track and the sequence works brilliantly.
Horns Of The Buffira is a full-throttle delivery that puts a grin on your face and demands you turn it up. There is a looseness to the energy here that feels almost celebratory before the album enters its final third, and it works as a vital bit of breathing room before things get truly epic.
The album’s title track The Great Elven War is truly the centrepiece the album has been building toward. This is the song the band describe as their own original mythology – a saga of conflict, courage, and conquest – and it is quite simply phenomenal. Tempo changes arrive with real dramatic purpose, the orchestration swells to genuinely cinematic heights, and by the time it ends you realise you have been completely swept up in it.
The closer, Wrath Of The High Heavens finishes things off in the most utterly mesmerising fashion. Wrath Of The High Heavens does not coast on what has come before it – it pushes again, demands again, and the end section in particular is the kind of thing you find yourself replaying immediately because you cannot quite believe what you just heard. It sends you back to track one without hesitation.
Overall, The Great Elven War is a triumph – not just as a piece of fantasy metal, but as a body of work on their own terms. Laden with fantastical realms & riffs. 8/10
Trauma Ray– Carnival (Dais Records) [Spike]
Anything with a note of “shoegaze” on it and I’m here for it. This is my thing. And this thing from Trauma Ray works. As a background there has to be a specific kind of creative gold that can only be mined when a band is tired, anxious, and stuck in a room together for a frantic window of time between tours.
Horns Of The Buffira is a full-throttle delivery that puts a grin on your face and demands you turn it up. There is a looseness to the energy here that feels almost celebratory before the album enters its final third, and it works as a vital bit of breathing room before things get truly epic.
The album’s title track The Great Elven War is truly the centrepiece the album has been building toward. This is the song the band describe as their own original mythology – a saga of conflict, courage, and conquest – and it is quite simply phenomenal. Tempo changes arrive with real dramatic purpose, the orchestration swells to genuinely cinematic heights, and by the time it ends you realise you have been completely swept up in it.
The closer, Wrath Of The High Heavens finishes things off in the most utterly mesmerising fashion. Wrath Of The High Heavens does not coast on what has come before it – it pushes again, demands again, and the end section in particular is the kind of thing you find yourself replaying immediately because you cannot quite believe what you just heard. It sends you back to track one without hesitation.
Overall, The Great Elven War is a triumph – not just as a piece of fantasy metal, but as a body of work on their own terms. Laden with fantastical realms & riffs. 8/10
Trauma Ray– Carnival (Dais Records) [Spike]
Anything with a note of “shoegaze” on it and I’m here for it. This is my thing. And this thing from Trauma Ray works. As a background there has to be a specific kind of creative gold that can only be mined when a band is tired, anxious, and stuck in a room together for a frantic window of time between tours.
For Fort Worth’s Trauma Ray, that window opened in the summer of 2025, right as the success of their debut Chameleon was threatening to turn them into permanent residents of the van (thanks to getting this to review I check out the debut and it too is epic - spoiler alert). The result is Carnival, an EP that feels less like a collection of songs and more like a disorienting trip through a deserted amusement park which is fitting, given the photography that adorns the sleeve.
It’s a record that understands the "shimmer" of shoegaze, but it’s anchored by a heavy, subterranean pulse that owes as much to Birmingham 1970 as it does to Reading 1991.
The experience begins with Carousel, a wordless, unsettling threshold of static and downcast strums that serves as a warning: the lights are on, but nobody is home. It’s the perfect primer for Hannibal, a track that contorts the band's anthemic power into something slithery and genuinely "evil." There’s a distinct 90s grunge friction here, a nod to the sludgy, druggy textures of Dirt-era Alice in Chains, layered over power riffs that feel properly physical. It’s a study in teenage angst and rejection, delivered with a weight that suggests the band has stopped trying to be polite.
It’s a record that understands the "shimmer" of shoegaze, but it’s anchored by a heavy, subterranean pulse that owes as much to Birmingham 1970 as it does to Reading 1991.
The experience begins with Carousel, a wordless, unsettling threshold of static and downcast strums that serves as a warning: the lights are on, but nobody is home. It’s the perfect primer for Hannibal, a track that contorts the band's anthemic power into something slithery and genuinely "evil." There’s a distinct 90s grunge friction here, a nod to the sludgy, druggy textures of Dirt-era Alice in Chains, layered over power riffs that feel properly physical. It’s a study in teenage angst and rejection, delivered with a weight that suggests the band has stopped trying to be polite.
The surrealism peaks with Méliès. Named after the French illusionist and cinematic pioneer, the track cuts between heavy, sludgy chords and a skyward chorus that feels like waking up from a nightmare only to realize the "real" world is just as abstract. Uriel Avila’s lines about making up realities to avoid the truth hit hard, backed by a production that allows the "dream state" to feel every bit as massive as the "scary" sections.
For those who like their fuzz with a side of tectonic movement, Funhouse is the EP’s heart. As self-proclaimed "Sleep-heads," the band drops the BPM to a doom-metal crawl, utilizing sparse guitar work and a call-and-response outro that feels like a tug-of-war between two fractured states of mind. It’s slow, it’s sticky, and it’s wonderful.
The disorienting lights of the carnival finally bloom on the closer, Clown. It’s a jolting, pummelling finale that features a knotty, synthy lead guitar squall. It’s a sonic tribute to the "tragic happiness" of Robin Williams, synthesizing the technical complexity of 90s cult favourites like Failure with the omnipresent wash of Loveless-style feedback.
What makes Carnival truly epic, however, is the "Black Sabbath heartbeat" sitting right underneath the shoegaze fuzz. It’s a record of five musicians absorbing their darkest subconscious corners and expanding them into something formidable. It’s moody, it’s cerebral, and it is a total masterstroke of disorienting, high-velocity gloom. 9/10
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