Former Kyuss guitarist Josh Homme has kept pretty busy since the Kyuss days, running his own Queens of the Stone Age while also lending his talents to other projects. When you first hear Eagles of Death Metal you assume the crooning vocalist is none other than Josh (it sounds just like him), but it’s actually a fellow by the name of Jesse Hughes, or J. Devil Huge. Josh handles drumming duties here and is known as Carlo Von Sexron or Baby Duck. If you’re not yet getting that this band has some tongue-in-cheek humor behind it, how about the pink and blue pastel album artwork? Or just the name of the band? When the disc came out some people wondered whether the band really did play death metal. If you have to ask that question you’ve already missed the joke. No, what you have here is raucous, stripped-down blues rock. So stripped down, in fact, that most songs contain only guitar and drums. A couple have piano courtesy of Alain Johannes, Josh’s longtime collaborator in the Desert Sessions and QOTSA, and Nick Oliveri (Mondo Generator, Kyuss, ex-QOTSA) appears on bass a couple times. Other than that these tracks are raw, unfettered rock hymns. One of my favorite aspects of the album is the studio interplay between the members that was captured on tape. The “1, 2, 3, 4” count-offs; the chatter as they repeatedly start, stop and tweak the launch into “English Girl;” and my personal favorite, J. Devil’s calls to Carlo in the blazing final track “Miss Alissa”...all these quirks add to the charm and live feel of the album. Whether or not you consider this project a joke, there’s one thing that these dudes are serious about: playing badass rock ‘n’ roll without a care in the world.

Nothing will get me excommunicated from the metal world more quickly than putting Morrissey in this list, but I gotta do what I gotta do. After a staggering seven-year absence, the Moz returns with new studio material and I’m happy to say it is absolutely top tier stuff, his best since Vauxhall and I. This is quintessential Morrissey, with all the wit, sarcasm and drama you want and expect. “America is Not the World” is a scathing but fair commentary on our current foreign policy. “Irish Blood, English Heart” rocks lean and mean, and is the most Smiths-like song I’ve heard from the man in a long time. “I Have Forgiven Jesus,” if you can’t already tell by the title, is a perfect piece of trademark Morrissey irreverence. Delightful. “How Can Anybody Possibly Know How I Feel?” is just classic Moz, more vital and edgy than he’s been in years. “First of the Gang to Die” could slip in among the tracks of Your Arsenal and you’d never know it wasn’t from there. Album finisher “You Know I Couldn’t Last” finds dear Morrissey lamenting the pitfalls of pop stardom, and as always he does it with such melodramatic aplomb that you can’t help but love him for his silliness. It’s all here, boys and girls; the man still has it. If you never liked Morrissey before then this disc ain’t gonna change your mind, but longtime fans should fall to their knees and thank their deity of choice that he’s still making music this good.

It’s always a little odd when a band that’s been around as long as The Cure releases a self-titled album. Then again, it’s probably fitting when you consider that they had essentially called it quits and disbanded after 2000’s esoteric Bloodflowers; they’re starting over in a way. Robert Smith apparently felt the tug of the muse and went back to making music. Thank goodness, because The Cure is their best album since Wish, and it has some things in common with that release. “Before Three” and “Taking Off” would have fit nicely on that album, and the epic jam finale “The Promise” brings to mind “End” off the same. “Anniversary” has the same ethereal gloom about it as “This Twilight Garden” or “Play,” classic B-sides of the Wish period. Generally speaking, these songs all have a strong familiarity about them, but they sound fresh and new. “Us or Them” is as intense and political as the band has ever been, “Never” is a fast-paced rocker enhanced by Smith’s unique vocal inflections, and “alt.end” is likely my favorite track of all with its cool and quiet guitar line which explodes into a rocking chorus. There may even be something of Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me in this song. Frankly I sat here listening to older Cure albums, desperately trying to place why this song or that sounded so damn recognizable to me, but I couldn’t come up with many references that really clicked. This material is readily identifiable as The Cure, but difficult to pin down beyond that. Put it this way: if you’ve liked The Cure in the past, you’ll like this album. Their music is not bound by time and categorization. It is immortal and magical.

Hold on a second; what year is it again? Exodus and Death Angel both released new albums this year? And it’s not 1987? Huh. Coulda fooled me. Perhaps even more remarkable is that, in the current wake of virtually every friggin’ 80s band re-forming, both albums are well-written and quite good. But whereas the Exodus album is just good friendly violent fun (and exceptionally pissed off), Death Angel achieve something more. The album rocks plenty, with thrash-a-riffic guitar rhythms and melodies left and right, but tracks like the moody and ponderous “The Devil Incarnate” and the lyrically poignant “Word to the Wise” make for an extraordinary listen. Simply put, this disc is some of the best modern thrash (“modern” meaning within the last ten years) that I’ve heard. Other bands try and fail, but this album is overflowing with classic metal goodness. These guys still have the necessary chops, make no mistake. Mark Osegueda isn’t hitting any Ultra-Violence high note insanity, and that’s to be expected, but he sounds just as good as he did on Act III. I was also a big fan (seemingly one of maybe a handful on the entire planet) of the post-Death Angel group The Organization. Luckily for me Mark steps aside to let drummer Andy Galeon, who co-sang for The O, handle lead vocals on the awesome “Spirit.” It sounds like a long lost Organization track and that pleases me to no end. Dennis Pepa then makes his lead vocal debut on “Land of Blood” and oddly enough sounds much like Metallica’s James Hetfield. Go figure. Then it’s back to the other former Organization vocalist, guitarist Rob Cavestany, to handle terrific closer “Word to the Wise.” I like that Mark shares vocal duties with other members of the band; it makes this effort feel more collaborative and tightly knit, like the whole family is back together again (even though original member Gus Pepa is replaced by Ted Aguilar). Perhaps it is this united front that makes the album so damn good. Whatever the cause, I welcome Death Angel back with open arms.

Although Mastodon’s previous release, Remission, catapulted them toward some semblance of success (at least in the metal world) and was revered by many, it never affected me all that viscerally. Great album, no question, but Leviathan leaves me more satisfied. “Blood and Thunder” gallops out of the gate with groovy riffing and Brann Dailor beating the holy hell out of his drum kit. Man, can that guy play. Subsequent songs will have you bobbing your head to wicked rhythms as well, most notably the kickin’ “Iron Tusk.” However, the latter songs of this album are where Mastodon really make it known that they’ve grown as artists and aren’t content to just churn out the same material. Check out the fierce “Aqua Dementia” with its Voivod-inspired riffing and the majestic “Hearts Alive,” which lasts for an amazing 13+ minutes as it meanders through changing rhythms and melodies. Very unexpected and very cool. If Mastodon continue down this creative path there’s no telling what their future might hold, but as long as they turn out material as good as Leviathan I’ll be along for the ride.

I resisted Modest Mouse at first. I heard some snippets of their songs online and some sounded semi-cool while others annoyed me. Then I heard the full album and again perceived alternating coolness/lameness. And yet something about the album still tugged at me so I eventually obtained a copy (as a gift, hence no cost/no risk to me!). A few spins later and I was hooked. A few more spins after that and I was stupefied by the notion that I hadn’t liked it more from the start. But I guess that means it’s a grower, and many of the best albums are. It’s somewhat difficult to describe Modest Mouse’s music; the ubiquitous single “Float On” features a sparkling Brit-pop melody line and Talking Heads-styled vocals. There’s a bit o’ The Cure in “Ocean Breathes Salty” and more of the stilted David Byrne singing approach. “Bury Me With It” is total Beck, slamming around with jangly guitars and a screamed/shouted chorus. I was never a big Beck fan but this song kicks ass. My favorite element, however, is the “evil bluegrass” that rears its head on “Bukowski,” hits hard on “This Devil’s Workday,” and spices up “Satin in a Coffin.” You’re likely laughing yourself senseless at the notion of “evil bluegrass” but there’s no better way to describe this sound that I first heard from twisted geniuses 16 Horsepower, and which I am thrilled to find here to at least some extent. Take a standup bass and a banjo, pick out some creepy, sinister melodies, and you’ve got evil bluegrass. Great stuff, I swear it. For me it’s the ace in the hole for Modest Mouse and pushes this disc from good to great. This album wields several different seemingly disparate styles, but wrangles them successfully into a cohesive whole that I found myself playing over and over again.

After three years this side project (of members of Converge, Cave In and Isis) returns and they’re sounding better than ever. Opener “Gift” is punishingly heavy but with a thick melody line that hums and vibrates out of your speakers. “Skullstorm” then goes about the business of focused, rabid destruction and sets the stage for a disc of intense and sludgy anthems. That being said, however, my problem with this album is the same problem I have with every other OMG album: the ambient interludes. I suppose that means I don’t “get” OMG, whatever that means. These amorphous soundscapes are central to the band’s creed, I think, but they fail to excite me. Moreover, the more compelling heavy tracks are never long enough. “’Tis Better to Receive,” “Girth and Greed” and the aforementioned “Skullstorm” are incredibly cool songs, but they’re all well under two minutes in length! Another victim of this unfortunate brevity is “Valhalla,” an aptly-named song that finds the band sounding particularly epic while tearing a page from the book of old school doom metal. It really ought to last about three times longer. Thankfully “The Volcano” delivers both an ass-kicking as well as some time to actually enjoy it as it grinds on for seven-and-a-half minutes. In any case, though I wish OMG would shorten the ambient and lengthen the heavy, they still craft massive works of sonic dissonance. But I have yet to figure out why the hell the album is called Christmas...

Former Faith No More/Mr. Bungle frontman Mike Patton must be a very influential person to work with. DEP’s previous recorded output, the 4-song EP Irony is a Dead Scene, found them and Patton forming an unholy union that yielded impressive results. As the band was between vocalists at the time there was never any question that the stint with Patton was nothing more than a one-off. And yet new vocalist Greg Puciato steps in and sounds remarkably like Mike. How much like him? Well, take the song “Setting Fire to Sleeping Giants,” couple it with “Unretrofied” for a B-side, hand this makeshift single to someone who hasn’t heard the songs before, and they will tell you they’re listening to Faith No More. Seriously. The resemblance is uncanny, and not just in the vocals. It’s as if Patton’s essence seeped into the entire band. Take a more vicious song like “Highway Robbery” and it could be mistaken for Mr. Bungle on a frenzied hardcore assault. On the other hand, forget all those comparisons when you get to “Phone Home;” it’s a dead ringer for Downward Spiral-era Nine Inch Nails. Lest you think that the Dillinger boys have completely flipped out, know that the foundation of this disc is the same mind-bending spazzcore that put the band on the map to begin with. I suppose that’s what makes this album so good: DEP stay true to their own genre-defining sound while fearlessly pushing the envelope way, way out there. It’s an intoxicating mix, and one I hope they continue to utilize.

Ashes to Embers is a very apt title for this release. After two full-length albums, the band Mindrot dissolved several years ago. From the ashes of that talented group rise Eyes of Fire, the embers of their sound growing brightly. To my ears that sound can be summed up in one handy marketing tag line: Mindrot Lite. Indeed, the Mindrot aesthetic is alive and well, pouring forth its anguish and fury in songs like “Empty,” “Fly Away” and “Shelter.” But overall there are more gothic elements at work, such as the low-key opener “The End Result of Falling…” and the rather Type O Negative-like keyboard work in “Hopeless.” The fellows in Eyes of Fire are miserable bastards, that much is certain. Track after track of woe and longing punch you right in your emotional gut. It remains to be seen whether these embers will become a raging flame, but they’re off to an excellent start.

Someone forgot to tell Disillusion that Germany is only supposed to produce power metal and classic deaththrash bands (and maybe the occasional misguided stoner rock group). These Deutschlanders break the mold by serving up a heaping platter of progressive death metal a la Opeth, and they’re damn good at it. Lengthy, epic hymns are the name of the game and they’ve got the right instrumentation to back them up. Unable to ignore their German metal heritage altogether, this disc is still chock full of melody, some of it arguably power metal in nature, but not once does it grow annoying or tiresome. Other styles make an appearance too: “Alone I Stand in Fires” is probably the most varied, containing both balls-out death metal and even abruptly surging into symphonic black metal around the three-minute mark. Additionally the vocals early on in the track have a strong Nevermore feel. “Fall” is one of only a few “short” tracks, clocking in at a relatively miniscule 4:54, but it features a crunchy opening riff that sets it apart as more unusual. Ultimately, however, this work is very much grounded in an impressive style of progressive death that few bands can write, and fewer can play. So are Disillusion the German version of Opeth? Yes, actually, I think they are. I can’t pay them much higher compliment than that.

Five years have passed since Morgion last graced the world with their presence. Luckily for us they’re back though at first one might be surprised by how un-doomy they are. After a couple minutes of thundering, earth-shaking doom, “A Slow Succumbing” moves into clean vocals like we’ve never heard from the band before. Crushing guitars and bellowing vocals make a return, but they don’t stay long. The remainder of this disc showcases a kinder, gentler Morgion. It also gives us the most subtle, skilled, and emotionally evocative Morgion of their career. You need to spend a bit of time with these songs, but if you do so they will reveal their genius to you. Melancholy, meandering, and often mesmerizing, the songwriting is unquestionably top notch. My only complaint is that I’d like to see melody used more frequently; “Cairn” is the perfect example. The song starts with a perfect melody line that could have been carried out and embellished upon for another 30 seconds, if not a couple minutes, but instead it abruptly vanishes as the tune shifts gears. That moment still bothers me every time I hear it, but not long after I am made to forget it as “She, the Master Covets” and “Crowned in Earth” close out the album brilliantly. Both tracks show that, as great as Morgion is, they are capable of still more. There’s a progressive edge to these songs that leaves me thrilled at the creative prospects that lie ahead for this talented band. Here’s hoping they stay the course, for to lose them now would truly be a tragedy.

As if Isis and Cult of Luna weren’t enough, the very progenitors of noisecore also released a new album this year, and it is their finest work to date. Neurosis have been on a more minimalist path over the last few years and I think it suits them well. The material on display here carries far more emotional weight than that of several years ago. Similar to what Isis have been doing on their last two discs, you can’t even really call this noisecore. Rest assured, it is easily identifiable as Neurosis, but the elements of their sound are separate and distinct. Take “A Season in the Sky” which lulls you into a hypnotic state through haunting and poignant vocals laid bare before pummeling you with monstrous, plodding riffs. Or “Bridges,” a song that redefines the word “dynamic” by blasting forth distortion that will leave your body buzzing and then dropping off into simple echoing percussion and single ringing guitar notes. And then you have the title track: its middle dissolves into virtually nothing but a throbbing synthesizer and the mantra “Now oath breaker sinks low” for several minutes. These tracks, among others, are all bold, groundbreaking and brilliant. Although you could point to Isis and say their influence is visible on this album, it is important to remember that Neurosis are the teachers, not the students. This sound is just the next stage of their glorious evolution. Who knows what’s next, but I love this band more and more with each release so I can’t wait to find out.

Last year Evergrey’s Recreation Day album made my list and I commented that the band never failed to create emotional impact with their songs, even though the subject matter was sometimes trite or overused. Well this time the Swedish prog metal gods return with an old favorite: religious cults. You can argue whether that subject’s been beaten to death by a hundred bands prior, but it doesn’t really matter because Evergrey deliver with grace and power yet again. The Inner Circle takes you on a journey of perversion and despair, following a character that gives up his normal life and becomes drawn into a cult. In vocalist Tom Englund’s own words (from the liner notes), “..this is by far the most horrifying and brutal story I have ever written.” He ain’t kidding, folks. The madness comes to a head on “The Essence of Conviction,” which closes with the terrified cries of a young child. Maybe my sensitivity is heightened because I am a parent myself (of young children, no less), but this song tears my guts out every time and sets me to trembling. It also repeats the line “You lied to me” over and over, and these four words are sung with such sincerity that you’d swear they were coming from your own soul, speaking to every miserable betrayal you’ve ever experienced. As for the vocals in general, Tom is again the very height of power, grace and class; still one of the very best singers in metal. A new shade is added to Evergrey’s palette this time around as many songs feature the work of the Gothenburg Symphonic Orchestra. This union results in the band’s metallic art reaching a new majestic high. This album was poised to be #1 for me, but that was before The Great Noisecore Revolution of 2004 (I better copyright that) came along. The only thing that could make this material better would be to hear it live from the band, accompanied by the aforementioned orchestra. Talk about a religious experience…

Panopticon. Panoramic. Potent. Portentous. Provocative. Evocative. Emotional. Gargantuan. Crushing. Despairing. Uplifting. Enlightening. Inspiring. Smothering. Liberating. Melancholic. Mesmerizing. Pensive. Celestial. Ethereal. Deconstructed. Reconstructed. Crumbling. Desperate. Somber. Bombastic. Hopeless. Hopeful. Breathtaking. Sustaining. Withering. Articulate. Deliberate. Introspective. Soulful. Revolutionary. Stunning. Absolute. Fucking. Genius.

Alright, I’ll be honest with you: I had the above “review” (if you will humor me and call it that) done for Panopticon some time ago, comfortable with the notion of this album being the best of the year. Then along came Cult of Luna, wielding Salvation, and I was shaken to my very core. At once explosive and seething, CoL’s effort made Isis’ latest work seem dull and washed out by comparison. Where Panopticon is steady and linear, Salvation is brutally dynamic, soothing and trance-inducing one moment and furiously violent the next. Surely it had surpassed Panopticon, a work I had come to love dearly. And yet, with time, I found myself swaying back the other way. I want to say it’s a case of flash vs. substance, but that would be selling Salvation short. To be sure, it is a monumental work that deserves to be heard by every heavy music fan, particularly those into the “new” noisecore sound that Isis crafted on 2002’s Oceanic, and which is now popping up more and more. What it boils down to is that Salvation has some moments that are so shockingly powerful that you’d swear you’d never heard anything so amazing before, but they are just that: moments. The album as a whole is brilliant, but I find my attention wandering away from it in one or two places. Panopticon just seems better designed; as I said earlier it is steady, and that is its great strength. It never wavers or falters. It moves with deadly precision, while Salvation is more of a sonic juggernaut destroying all in its path. Yes Salvation is dynamic, and one track even contains some very unexpected clean singing, but when it hits you it does so with alarming force and it is this force that you remember best. So, with all this talk about how these albums compare and contrast with one another it seemed only fitting to review them simultaneously. Frankly, they belong together. Isis are the seasoned sages, having molded their art into a true masterwork after many years. Cult of Luna are the younger, more energetic up-and-comers that will tear your goddamn head off if you should look at them sideways. Put the two together and you have the greatest music spawned in 2004.