The slow progression continues for Enslaved, the viking black metal pioneers, toward being some modern day extreme Pink Floyd or Hawkwind. Who would have thought 15 years ago when the band released the album "Vikingligr Veldi" this was possible? Enslaved started out playing furious, sprawling, epic viking black metal anthems. Over the course of their career more expansive, progressive elements and song structures have slowly been assimilated into their epic fury. There is a exacting, meticulously calculated deliberateness on "Vertebrae" that makes the songs seem almost simple even though most are grandiose with 1970's psychedelia and progressive rock overtones. Amazingly, the band can also channel numerous emotional sentiments like triumphant hope, despair, tranquility, and tempered anger. Actually, all those emotions can be usually experienced in one majestic song. Enslaved's viking aggression isn't lost to the eld though, it's just more focused, controlled and refined. Too bad about the production, which I consider too thin and passive. It's in no way a bad or awful production. All the instruments are perfectly clear in the mix. I just want a little more punch and less dryness. My favorite song on the disc is "Center," that starts out sounding a wee bit similar in feel to Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir." Grutle does his best evil troll under the bridge spoken word impersonation before the song kicks into an almost middle eastern drifting sound that ends far too soon. "Vertebrae," is definitely Enslaved's most sophisticated and ambitious album so far thats melds progressive rock and black metal.

Many rumors flew around the hidden, dark niches of the black metal community about the anticipated release of this album. The record label and artist, Wrest, the creator of Leviathan and Lurker of Chalice, disputed for many years about the release of this album. Rumors abound about the reasons for the delay of this album from: other black metal artists stealing the master tapes to bootleg, Wrest having a heroin overdose and nearly dying, and that the album was supposed to be a Lurker of Chalice release. It seems like the last rumor was the most valid because "Massive Conspiracy Against Life," is an accomplished blending of Leviathan's blackened suicidal fury and Lurker of Chalice's blackened menacing ambience. Maybe this is all for the best with Wrest stating that "Leviathan is dead... I hope it recedes back into obscurity," and Lurker Of Chalice is one of my all time favorite black metal albums. "Vesture Dipped In The Blood Of Morning," viciously opens the album with racing atonal, dissonant, and off beat riffs, while Wrest's acidic, raspy vocals strive to break through the pixelated blackened haze of sounds fighting to be heard above the din. All of Wrest's songs are heavily layered, which let smatterings of melodies, beats, and swirling blackened ambience to rise occasionally through the surface of the individual songs. These natural or artificial aural artifacts make repeated listens like a sonic black metal scavenger hunt where the listener isn't quite sure what they'll hear on the next repeated listen. The song "Merging With Sword Onto Them," is over ten minutes of blackened fuzzing immersion, which could have easily have fit on Lurker Of Chalice's eponymous album with its swirling, blackened drugged out atmosphere. The last song "Noisome Ash Crown," I hope is a foreshadowing of Wrest's musical direction in the future. The song is a pitch black abyss of undulating, mesmerizing drone with melodic lines simmering over the top of the blackened ambience with occasional overlaid muttered, garbled vocals. My hopes for another Lurker of Chalice album is incredibly high and if Wrest continues on as either Leviathan or Lurker of Chalice I'm sure I'm will not be disappointed in the blackened dementia that Wrest conjures up from his disturbed psyche.

Oh, the life of a jaded and cynical elitist death metalhead who has seen the grotesque birth pains of Death, been scared "Beyond the Gates" of hell by Possessed as a kid, thought "Chapel of the Ghouls" from Morbid Angel was really the sounds of hell, saw Cannibal Corpse before Chris Barnes became a hippy leaf eating lover, reveled in every vile cringeworthy slab of putrefacation from Carcass, dreamed John Tardy really did swallow the Cookie Monster, saw the truth of the "Left Hand Path" by hearing Entombed's devastating riffs, and salved Glen Benton's inverted forehead cross booboo when it was red and pus filled. So it takes a lot for the death metal genre to arouse my sense of death-like wonder. Well, I'm happy to say that Origin makes me feel like that 14 year old kid who pressed play on the tape player for the first time to hear Death's "Leprosy" and feeling aghast, disgusted and tingling with delight at the death metal sounds emanating. Origin's "Antithesis" brings back those memories and joys, not because they are a retro or old school sounding death metal band, but because they are pushing the dull corpse filled genre forwards with their own deathly vision filled with extreme technical skills and songwriting prowess. The whole album is one giant, over the top blast beat with blazing twisted, technical hyper riffs and sweeps that verge on ridiculous in their speed of execution. Normally, bands that blaze along beyond break neck speed are boring because of the lack of variety and the atonal nature of the music. Not Origin, who cram amazingly inventive tempo changes that make the songs actually memorable despite the inhumane speed of the drumming and riffing. Honest to Chuck Schuldiner, the songs are actually hummable and catchy. The album opener "The Aftermath", kicks off the death festivities and the tone for "Antithesis", with its face slicing hyper-technical riffs and ferocious drum patterns that are jaw dropping in their complexity. Even in the prerequisite mid song death metal formulaic breakdown, or audience sing-along section, the drumming just continues to pound away insanely while the guitars slowly crunch and churn. Vocals are nothing groundbreaking, even with three vocalists sharing the task. There is a harmony of death metal vocals starting with the usual deep guttural puking vocals, countered with high range larynx eviscerating screaming and then occasionally a mid throaty roar is used to balance out the vocal phrasing extremity. The production is perfect for Origin's style of death metal, which showcases all the instruments clearly. This album could have easily turned into a giant ball of mud with the wrong production. The best song the album is "Antithesis" and it's an epic nine minute long death metal classic that has the band throttling back the unnerving speed a wee bit, with its malevolent riffs that slowly build into a jagged crescendo of hellish arpeggios that careen the listener back into the pummeling speed frenzy. Origin wind down the frenzy with a section that sounds like it could have come from the classic Obituary "Cause of Death" album with soloing inspired by James Murphy. Thank you, Origin, for bringing the fun and joy of death back into this old jaded death metal fan.

Since my quest for the perfect shimmering ambient drone disc continues ever on, I have given up hope that a disc not created by either William Basinski, Tim Heckler, Brian Eno, Fennesz, Philip Jeck, Andrew Chalk or Aidan Baker will ever have a chance of garnering that elite ambient spot in my heart. Upon hearing rumors of a pairing of these ambient titans, my hopes of another ambient album reaching the pantheon of greatness had my expectations up. However, I doubted anything would ever come out of the collaboration, at least anything fruitful. How could a coherent album be recorded between two ambient artists who each create different textural sound visions and possibly mesh their ideas and sounds? Granted, both use a similar sonic palette of overdriven distortion, but each uses it in a different nuanced manner. Tim Heckler composes songs with slow drifting chords that are usually soaked in many levels of sonic distortion and with slow melodies oozing out through the churning distorted ethereal washes. While Aidan Baker, of doom drone band Nadja fame, constructs songs with an ear towards his feedback virtuosity via super heavy drone doom or minimalistic tonal experimental guitar improvisation. So my hopes were super high for this disc, possibly too high. Upon initially playing the cd and noticing that there are 66 songs, a crushing blow of soon to be suckage overcame me. How could 66 songs with each song duration between 10-20 seconds long be anything but unlistenable and incoherent? Well, those vast amounts of songs are divided into seven movements which blend perfectly together as either individual songs or as a complete work. Amazingly, both artists' unique sonic styles mesh fluidly together with a sound that finds both at times being spotlighted. However, it seems like most songs rely on Heckler's underlying distortional haze to be foundation of the song. Like on the album opener, "Phantom On the Pedestal," where the rumbling glimmering glitch propels the song forward while Baker melds auditory melodic notes between this sublime noise. The next song, "Hymn To The Idea of Night," starts out like a well washed and tumbled Eno track from "Music For Airports," with minor piano tickling and a gradual sonic wash that builds into a blissful mellow digital nirvana which then blends perfectly into "Auditory Spirits," where Baker's experimental guitar playing shines with his minimal echo-y, chiming guitar plucking that glistens the air while gauzy translucent haze envelops the listener. The song "Gallery Of The Invisible Women," is pure Heckler with undulating granulated shimmering static that ebbs and flows around a melody that repeats until it fades off into the distance leaving behind only a warm glitch of subharmonic organ drone. On the album's title track and final song, which is only one song and not 15 individual songs, Baker pushes Heckler's foundational song shimmer into an ominous Sunn))) worshipping territory with its brooding Cthulhu quake and rumbling shudder. Is my quest for the perfect shimmering ambient drone complete? No, but "Fantasma Parastasie," is a stunning album that will definitely be on my list of great ambient albums I own, but still leaves me still questing for that perfect shimmering ambient drone bliss.

Oh the mighty, moldy, crunchy, bludgeoning, down tuned doom/death metal riff. It seems like I have been searching for your horrid looming presence before I knew you even existed. My first glimpse upon your enticing punishing power and morbid appeal was aeons ago when Celtic Frost procreated your wickedness into my soul. Sure I was semi intimate with you because of Black Sabbath, but honestly I was young and immature. Now by the time some young Swedish lads called Entombed showed me how to revel in your flesh, I was old enough to cherish and understand your flitting elusive ways. How could I not be enthralled by your ever flowing stream of pummel and pleasure? A whole country's musical output came from a group of teenagers consisting of your evil ways which perverted a generation of kids like myself to your hefty embrace. Your symposium of sickness didn't just affect Swedish kids though. Bands like Autopsy and Carcass dragged you through the festering gore and guts, and all sorts of medical terminology. And I loved every asphyxiating moment until something unexpectedly happened. As my love was growing, somehow you weakened and weren't around as often as before. So sure I strayed, but honestly those heavy riffs in Nirvana, Godflesh, and Melvins didn't really mean anything to me. I just longed for your pounding primeval ways. Oh sure you made brief appearances in my doomier side of life, but usually you were just a silent enigma. So I lived my life and partied it up with my other friends until some stoner types turned me onto some Electric Wizard. And there you were again in all your monstrous depraved glory. Now that you are back in my life and we are meeting in more places again, another generation of musicians seem to be as inspired by you as me. So I wasn't too shocked by your appearance all over the latest Coffins disc, and my love for every gut crushing, pummeling stenchy riff continues on until I find you again.

On their first album I thought 5ive were closer in sound to the typical Hydra Head or Amphetamine Reptile bands with heavy abrasive sludge driven songs. On the other hand, my stoner rock mentor, Valecnikus, tried to advise me there were quite a few prototypical stoner riffs and grooves on their self titled disc. I just didn't hear it then. Well, 5ive's new album "Hesperus," epitomizes the huge stoner sound. After going back and listening to their self titled disc it definitely becomes apparent 5ive have always been steeped with stoner trappings. A great quote that is spreading around the Net comes from their bio, "5ive have a Kyuss style guitar tone without the shitty vocals." Well, that pretty much sums up this instrumental album with its big, thick, fuzzy psychedelic guitar and pounding drums. "Gulls," starts off the album gradually building into an orgasmic jamming riff fest. For only a two piece instrumental band, guitar and drummer, the songs are incredibly catchy and immersive with giant dynamic swings, usually crafted around a huge crushing stoner riff. For the longest time the song "Big Sea" bothered me. It sounded so familiar but I knew it wasn't a cover song. It finally dawned on me, the song is totally reminiscent of the great stoner band, Beaver, but way heavier. Not sludge heavy, just thick fat riffs. The song, "Kettle Cove," is one funky, twisted surfer psychedelic blowout with layers upon layers of riffs that is sheer infectious fun. That is exactly why I love this disc. Lately I have totally burned myself out on the slew of post-rock instrumental albums that sound great but really aren't a fun listen. Yet 5ive have brilliantly combined psychedelic jams, dynamic flowing songs and sludge on a diet riffage that makes me want to play "Hesperus" over and over again.

Pure and simple, this is some of the most monstrous, pulverizing, detuned, lurching sludge since Converge released "Jane Doe," and Will Haven was effortlessly seizing the day. It is bleak aural savagery taken to the nth degree of nihilistic intent, just a fearsome wall of anguish and crushing pummel. Pummel is the operative word because on most songs the band locks into a hypnotic groove and beat the listener senseless with simple pile driving, drop B tuned riffs over and over again. Anguished, hysterical, savage screaming vocals are layered over the top of this massive black pummel. Just the bass alone, or maybe that is the guitar, is tuned so low it sounds subsonic, and could decimate small cities with its teutonic rumbling. The first song "Nihility" sets the tone for the whole album with its slow gradual build up to the massive plod and plunder that pervades it and all the songs. It is a mass of raw, blackened distorted, lurching guitar riffs seems to drag behind the drum beat and spewed vocals. Thematically, it's all nihilism and soul searching apathy which perfectly fits the simple lurching, crushing devastation. Black Sheep Wall do inject some simple melodies like the creeping melancholic atmosphere, in "Care By Carcinogenic," which is provided by a melodic guitar line that overlays the top of the shuddering oozing sludge which is all very reminiscent of Will Haven in their prime. The big organic production and tone of the guitar is what initially addicted me to this album. It is the exquisite mid range to lower range crunch with all the lingering, reverberating tonal ranges heard before the distortion and inertia of the riff succumbs into the blackness of silence. The bass strings seem at times to be so loose that they are heard thwanging against the frame of the guitar. It's ironic that black and death metal vocalists try so hard to sound all evil through insane screeching or pitched shifted cookie monster vocals, while the singer of Black Sheep Wall just screams and wails away in scary, cathartic agony. This is some scary, extreme emotional pain and awe inspiring vocal intensity. The whole album is fueled by an uncaged anger, depression, hopeless abandon. However, with the album being a cathartic black hole of anguished uncaring emotion, the band do have a twisted sense of humor, like in the name of the band. The band is named after a cheat code for the StarCraft computer game to get rid of the fog of war. Also, with song titles like "DJewbf348thoqab," "Lamb...gayyy," are either senseless fun or band inside jokes. One of the best lyrical passages I have heard in a long time occurs between the band's usual lyrics about being utterly hopeless and full of despair. It surfaces in the song "Care By Carcinogenic" with the lyrical passage "My inner vision is just a mess of vowels and consonants." This lyrical passage contains perfect irrelevance in the face of internal strife. I could do without the last song, "Xiomara," which seems like an in studio goof with its attempted ambient amateur atmosphere and vocal high jinks. I can look past this song since it's last and my sense of taste has been numbed by the previous songs' ravaging pummel. That is what makes this disc so great is its world escaping immersive black void wonderment. "I Am God Songs" might be the crowning achievement by the Black Sheep Wall because they have broken apart and only two band members remain. Hopefully, the band will continue. If not, this is a testament to the nothingness.

An emerging coalescence and evolution of the United States black metal (USBM) sound established by Weakling seems to be occurring after their seeds of darkness were planted many years ago. Weakling combined a deep appreciation of Norwegian black metal with influences of disenfranchised punk to create a majestic, grim, epic, misanthropic, mesmerizing masterpiece. Wolves In The Throne Room were one of the first bands who seemed influenced by the Weakling sound framework. However, instead of being influenced by urban strife, they let their pagan beliefs color their sound by adding lushness and primordial overtones. Now along comes Krallice, which yet again expands on the Weakling soundscape with precise mathematically technical post-rock aspects that would please any art rock snob or jazz enthusiast. Upon hearing who was in the band, Colin Marston (Dysrhythmia, Behold The Arctopus), Mick Barr (Orthrelm, Ocrilm, The Flying Luttenbachers), my interest was piqued by this supergroup of instrumental geniuses. Despite the assembled talent, my hopes weren't too high because all great black metal must be based on passion, fury, anger, and hate or it will be sterile and lifeless. To my delight and awe Krallice delivers six lengthy technically mesmerizing songs that seemingly rip apart the time continuum with their outrageous technical complexity. With this release, Krallice has written the bible on severe blisteringly complex USBM. Each song is an intricate structure of crazed, blasting black metal riffs and distant echo chamber shrieks. At times the freezing cold lead guitar riffage seems so convoluted that the lead idea and the ancillary lead will meander independently of the song and then eventually intertwine in a repetitious trance. Incredibly within all the technicality and abstract sounds intermingling, some amazing cold melodies emerge and shine brightly before being pulled into the complicated tornado of coldness. I haven't heard if Krallice is a one album band, since the band members involvement in other bands. It would be sad to not see how the band evolves their sound, but then again I'm not sure Krallice could technically top this opus.

The genre of post metal (I really hate that term) in recent years has exploded in size, with multitudes of bands arising from the oceanic void. However, the quality level between the big three, Neurosis, Isis, and Cult Of Luna, and the recent masses pale in comparison. Initially, Cult Of Luna was not too far removed from the Neurosis and Isis soundscapes, but the band quickly found their own sonic niche and have been expanding it outwards. With "Eternal Kingdom," the band has advanced their art form even further with a concept album shaped from journal entries of a mentally ill killer, delusionally living in the eternal kingdom full of murderous woodland creatures, marching birch trees and and owl king. Sonically, the album is similar to "Salvation," and could have easily been a followup with the continuation of the breathtaking dichotomy between loud and soft nuances. Despite the sonic similarity, the band has definitely enlarged their sound with new elements that fit the grandiose story telling on "Eternal Kingdom." Album opener "Owlwood," sets the tone with earth shaking riffs and roaring vocals. This song is very reminiscent of "The Watchtower," song from their album "The Beyond." One interesting lapse backwards on this album is the lack of clean vocals. All of the vocals from Klas are in the Neurosis bellowing fashion. The song "Eternal Kingdom," builds with an ebbing and flowing expansive melody that comes to a thundering crescendo before finally fading away. The band seems to be listening to some latter career Earth albums, because the song "Ugin," could easily fit on an Earth album with its pastoral atmosphere. The stunning epic "Ghost Trail," is 12 minutes long and delicately transitions between soothing and bombastic moods that have a gradual, massive build up before a monstrous, pulverizing doom finale. To counter the pummeling, the next song is an instrumental "The Lure," with its complimentary Isis intonations and an additional trumpet calling out over the top of the song. On the closing song "Following Betulas," the band explicitly expand their sound with angular guitar rock riffs, underlying pulsating keyboard beats, Godflesh drum machine staccato beats, triumphant trumpeting, and marching beats for the birch trees. Cult of Luna have created a stunning album yet again that solidifies their placement in the firmament of the metal stars.

After what seems like an exorbitantly long wait, 3 years to be exact, the environmentally conscious French death metal monster returns to smite all Hummer loving consuming hyperboles. The wait has been perpetuated by their outstanding previous album, "From Mars To Sirius," and and the hope that Gojira could evolve their huge potential and solidify themselves in the the upper echelon of metal bands. Stylistically, their evolution is minor: with conciser song writing, less ever present big choruses, and a dash more richness in technical complexity. One major difference from previous albums is that "The Way Of The Flesh" is more rhythmically driven. A perfect example of this is the monster of a song, "The Art Of Dying," with its tribal Sepultura-ish introduction that sets up one of Gojira's all time classic songs. This nine minute song is pure Gojira at its best: with continuous roller coaster tempo changes, crushing mechagodzilla grooves, big sing-a-long choruses, chugging guitars countering the relentless rhythmic syncopated beats, and a wee bit of melodic serene atmosphere. Another tiny tweak to Gojira's trademark sound is the seemingly blatant adoration of Cynic's synth-alien vocal style, which is used on the songs "Oroborus" and "A Sight To Behold." The alien vocalization fits perfectly into both songs as a type of apathetic, disjointed observer trying to remember an archetypical gateway away from self destruction. It's interesting to note the many similarities that arise on "The Way Of The Flesh" with other death metal technical wizards like Meshuggah, Burnt By the Sun, and even Morbid Angel. The song "Yama's Messengers," sludges it up in perfect Morbid Angel "Where the Slime Live" fashion. Yet, Gojira's sound is undeniably their own, with its unique technical death metal groove along with their unique lyrical approach. Thematically, it's the typical Gojira subject matter, with songs dealing with environmental issues and the transformational death of the earth and the self. Not many death metal bands can sing about the island of toxic waste in the Pacific ocean without either sounding silly or preachy, but Gojira has pulled it off quite well. The song "Toxic Garbage Island" is an aggressive complex fury of crazed, crunchy, staccato riffs that twist and turn while the drummer, Mario Duplantier, rides the double bass drums and occasionally adds intricate jazz flourishes. The chest thumping conviction of Joe Duplantier screaming "Plastic bag in the sea" over and over is just scary. The production on "The Way Of The Flesh," is crisp and dry, which is counter to their previous album which had a warmer echo-y distorted crunch. This is my one minor quibble with the album. I wish there was a richer sonic crunch. So the questions I proposed, was the long wait for this album worth it and will Gojira's status in the metal community be elevated to a modern day metal deity? "The Way Of The Flesh," is definitely an excellent album that has gradually evolved their sonic palette, but it's not a ground breaking album for the band in any way. That album I believe is "From Mars To Sirius." However if the metal gods are smiling on Gojira, their name should be spoken in the same breath as one of today's elite metal bands. So, you'd better recycle or Gojira will get you.

I pretty much gave up hope on this album. I tried numerous times to digest and understand its complexities, mostly in the car, but it just didn't click. Their previous album, "Origo," also didn't click with me and I'm really unsure why, because Burst's "Prey For Life" album totally enthralled me. Well, I finally gave "Lazarus Bird" a few more critical listens with headphones on and a totally different album was revealed to me at last. My ears were opened to an album full of frequent rhythm and tempo changes, poignant melodies, progressive metalcore, and amazingly dynamic song construction. My car listening environment just couldn't do "Lazarus Bird" any justice because most songs are long, intricate and unpredictable, with tiny subtleties and bigger mood swings. With "I Hold Vertigo," Burst initially retrogress back to former albums with harsh hardcore feel, especially the vocals. Adventurously, the song twists and turns rhythmically from soft mellow sections to monstrous melodies with some pile driving hardcore riffs smattered about the song. Also, this unpredictability of the song structures within "Lazarus Bird," added a barrier to my initial digesting of the album. A somber, dreamy, introspective introduction opens "We Are Dust," before transitioning into something sounding like it could have appeared on "Prey For Life." The evolution of Burst's ability to craft wonderful melodies that range in sound from somber, dreamy, Opethian, and jazzy, continues on. However, these melodies are perfectly placed to swell and peak within the serpentine, labyrinthine sound structures to give the greatest clarity and penetration. Even though I was super slow to realize "Lazarus Bird's" brilliance and complexity, it's an extraordinary album that dazzles in the intricate complexity and clarity of execution.

I seriously could listen to this disc at least 10 times a day and never tire or get sick of it's raucous fuzzed out quirky songs. To be honest I have done this many times already. Come on, the first song, "Shivers", has a cowbell playing within the first ten seconds of the song. How cool is that? Oh, and the massive, fat fuzzed guitar resonates with a such a ultra cool low organic warmth that it is sheer ecstasy for every stoner rock fan. This is the perfect summer time jam album released during the fall months. Oh well, the album still kicks major butt with fun simple songs about flying saucers in the desert, indians, aliens, and stampeding buffalos coming down from the sky. The Tweak Bird is a family band of two brothers, guitarist Caleb Bird and the drumming is handled by Ashton Bird. Somehow I believe they are spoofing the Ramones with the names but then again who knows when the cover art is a slightly disturbing semi naked family picture of the band. But who cares about the band members when song after rocking song on this disc is packed full of huge, fat grooving jams. I could have sworn there was a chick singer in the band until I saw a video of Ashton singing in his high falsetto voice which he blends with his brother's shouting singing style. Come on, how cool is an effeminate stoner rock dude sounding like he should be singing in Abba or the Bee Gees, while walloping psychedelic riffs fly all about. The only disappointing aspect of "Reservations," is that the length of the songs range between 1:32-3:30 minutes long. Hey, that is no problem, just click play again and be rocked out by the fat grooves over and over again.

This is the album for the Fischer Price noise generation, who grew up playing with the brightly colored toys that joyfully played simple mindless melodies through tiny bad plastic speakers before the cheap batteries made the music all warped and distorted sounding. Some of the catchiest experimental noise music exists on "Street Horrrsing." Even the noise music neonate or the usual noise music hater, like myself, can appreciate the songs because of their catchy, waifish, child like melodies that rise above the ocean of distortion and infectious thump of the beats. If you take away the distorted monkey screaming meets grouchy foul mouthed truck driver screaming through a Fischer Price CB microphone (no joke I saw them live) this could almost at times be an underground trance dance album. The album starts out with "Sweet Love For Planet Earth" that has a simple jack-in-the-box melody repeated endlessly, while hot white swatches of fuzzed distortion act as the catalyst of propulsion for the song. An additional lulling, amorphous hazy synth element is then layered into the mix of the song and lasts the length of the song. The Fuck Buttons greatly utilize these stretched out, hazed synth elements that cast gorgeous textures to the songs along with lulling the listener into a trance-like void. Finally, the vocals are introduced which are so overly distorted and looped that they sound like a truck driver cursing through a CB from a parallel universe. Eventually all these elements meld and drift together into a kaleidoscope of intertwined sublime haze and beats. The next song "Ribs Out" doesn't utilize this collage of juxtapositioned sound elements, instead it gets all urban tribal, with four minutes of pounding filtered drumming, with monkey yelping vocals that result in a funky perverted drum circle dance-a-thon. The glory of the band, which is only two guys from Bristol England, is their ability to create heavy, fuzzy distorted beats and sound patterns they achieve through computer manipulation. This gauzy distortion is nuanced and nurtured by the band to add depth, luxurious texture, chest thumping heft, and blissed out drones that seem to last forever. Songs like "Okay, Let's Talk About Magic," and "Race You To My Bedroom / Spirit Rise," are perfect examples of this, where the songs sound like trance dance songs but get unfurled out with all its noise nether regions showing, by highlighting the songs with huge My Bloody Valentine distorted washes and glazes. I never imagined a noise band or a noise album would be able to make a huge connection with me, because of the usual lack of emotional bonds and the unmemorable music. Yet on "Street Horrrsing" the Fuck Buttons transcends the normal lack of emotional substance with songs that sear into the mind and soul by transcending the calculated confining genre of noise with a sense of wonder, fun and childlike sensibility.

When the misanthropic black metal pioneers were birthing a whole genre out of the bile of death metal and tepid darkness of thrash I bet there were no thoughts of including no-wave and gothic dark wave sounds from bands like Swans, Joy Division, The Cure, Fields of the Nephilim into the mix of ideas. Well, Hateful Abandon, from England, have seemingly spawned their own genre defining release with "Famine." The band has taken tiny morsels of black metal such as occasional screechy vocals, dreary bleakness, and palpable menace and has incorporated those elements with swatches of dark pop, post-punk, and new wave. The merging of these disparate aural styles creates a stunningly depressive, darkly beautiful, dreamlike, sorrowful album that has zero competition from either the black metal or the new retro-wave communities. The album opener "Rats Whisper Murder" is a brooding song based around a ponderous Beyond Dawn sounding bass line with atmosphere enhanced by post-punk chime-y guitar and keyboard flourishes that slowly reveals a lovely dreary melody. The extreme emotions of the song come to sorrowful life through Martin Edward's crooning, gasping drawl, and serpentine vocal performance. Initially, I couldn't stand Edward's vocals, which vary from powerful deep bellows, black metal demonic shrieking, gloomy intonations, soft singing, and laconic crooning. Soon though the raw fragile emotions he distills into the overwrought songs grew on me and evoked appreciation and awe. Thematically, the album revolves around paranoia, sorrow, falling into chaos, and killing addictions which were inspired by drug induced nightmares that the singer had while on medication. On the "Diamond Spine," the band perfectly melds the melodramatic, melancholic gothic sound with black metal trappings of menacing bleakness and insane shrieking. Another song with major dark and gothic rock tendencies is "Riding The Blade," where you can tell the guys in Hateful Abandon have listened to a lot of Fields of Nephilim and Christian Death in their lifetime. The centerpiece of "Famine," is the song "Avalanche," which starts out meandering slowly and softly along before building in melancholic tension and intensity with swirling distorted guitars. "Boiling Seas," is the harshest song on the album with its pounding Swans-ish percussion driving the song forward while the thinly distorted black metal guitars meets Big Black guitar scraping buzz away incessantly. The next song, "Painters Rope," is the most accessible and poppy song on the album being a jangle-y rocking, upbeat Joy Division lovefest with Edward's low angry vocals paying a tribute to Ian Curtis's eternal drawl. The album closes with the song "Lungs," that has a bass line that could easily fit on any of The Cure's or Bauhaus' albums. A shimmering, looping discordant guitar layers texture and atmosphere, while an underlying synth drone adds a rich blackness which vaguely reminds me of the band Lurker of Chalice. Albums like "Famine," that break new ground musically and are emotionally relevant are rare and special. Hopefully, Hateful Abandon can follows its muse and continue trail blazing this new musical genre they created, black wave, or at least be a luminous beacon for other bands to follow.

Caina, the place, is a located in the ninth circle of hell. It's a frozen lake where the treacherous souls have been banished and are immersed in the frozen ice up to their necks. It's a place of absolute desolation and despair. Caina, the band, is Andrew Curtis-Brignell whose tortured soul creates songs of pure emotional despair, based on his vision of a treacherous world. I'm unsure if Caina started as a orthodox black metal sounding band because I'm only familiar with the proper albums released and not any of the demos. As long as I have heard Caina though, the band has defied categorization. Andrew's unique vision coalesces the sounds of bleak black metal, shoegaze, avant-garde, progressive rock, neo-folk, post-punk, experimental, new-wave, ambient, post-rock, and gloomy pop into a stunningly unique and abstract undefinable sound. I have been a fan since Caina's first album, "Some People Fall," and there has always been something off kilter about the band. Caina has always sounded like an outsider black metal band, which is nice way of saying Andrew didn't really know how to play what he envisioned in his mind. Still, it was always charming in its naivete, and often times the sounds emitted were truly extraordinarily fresh and innovative. A mature Caina now drips with a fragile desolation and despair with haunting melodies that illicit eldritch visions that ensnare your mind. Conceptually, the album is based on pulp fiction horror, fantasy, and esoteric occult practices. However, the sheer sincere emotive force that Andrew instills into the songs makes it hard to believe some aspects of his life aren't apart of the song topic. "Temporary Antenna," opens with some spoken poetry that truly sets the tone for the whole album.

"Through the whole void of night I search
So dumbly crying out to thee
But thou art not, and night’s vast throne
Becomes an all-stupendous church
With star-bells knelling unto thee, who in all space am most alone"

The first true song "Ten Went Up the River," rages initially with black metal ferocity before turning into a haunting shoegazing song with guitars, keyboards, and obscured vocal melodies buried beneath sonic layers of murk. Not being the greatest guitar player, Andrew's solos are brilliantly simple with forlorn feelings. Also Andrew's use of cinematic touches and sonic storytelling work brilliantly on "Temporary Antenna." An example of this is before and after the song "Willows and Whippoorwills," where a little girl hauntingly sings acapella, which sets the tone for a bleak multilayered wallowing song. The next song, "Tobacco Beetle," writhes with black metal intensity and the odd Ved Buens Ende avant-garde stylings with lyrics about how the tobacco beetle will take down civilizations. The shocking new-wave pop instrumental, "Larval Door," is pilfered from the song books of early Cure and Depeche Mode. Initially, this song struck me as odd because it's so upbeat and innocent. However, the next song, which is again an instrumental, "...and Ivy Wound Round Him," restores the gorgeously enchanting, sorrowful, sad feelings. "Petals and Bloodbowls," reminds me of a lot of a heavier Red House Painters song with melancholic, regretful lyrics about nostalgic lost love. The song "Temporary Antennae," has to be one of the most poetic and beautiful anti-religious songs ever written with sweeping soaring soundscapes. The album closes with "None Shall Die," which starts with some soft acoustic plucked guitars and Andrew plaintively singing about some tragic loss. The song gradually builds upon a despondent sustained guitar drone before a climax of anguish and buried melodies takes over. "Temporary Antennae," has a timeless, intimate, vivid quality to the music, which resonates with such sincere, raw emotional despair that a cleansing, cathartic, reflective quality exists after each listen.