It is no secret that the 1980s have had a cultural resurgence. From fashion to movie remakes to the reunion of thrash metal bands such as Death Angel and Heathen, and even quite recently with Honda's spin-off of Ferris Bueller for a Superbowl ad, there is no shortage of love for the decade's many treasures. But Canada's Cauldron are something else altogether. They formed in 2006 but they showcase radical devotion to the art of '80s metal and I'm not just talking about the music. I'm talking the cover art, liner notes, band members' hairstyles and clothing -- everything. The illusion is flawless and complete. Without a little research or an examination of copyright dates on the back cover you might honestly have no idea that you were not listening to some fantastic band from 1985 that had somehow managed to escape your attention. Stylistically they remind me in many ways of Dokken but with a thrashier edge and maybe a little Ratt thrown in. Ironically they also remind me a lot of Early Man, another '80s-obsessed modern band, but Early Man does not embrace the total image anywhere near the point that Cauldron does. Vocals are in the higher range, a little nasal, but never achieving air raid siren level with the exception of a yelp in the middle of "I Confess" and a piercing end to "Rapid City." Speaking of the latter, "Rapid City/Unleashed" delivers a double wallop: "Rapid..." has classic riffing you have heard a hundred times before but it still sounds fresh and vital and "Unleashed" is an Eddie Van Halen-style shredfest akin to his iconic "Eruption." "Frozen in Fire" bears more than a passing resemblance to late '80s/early '90s Megadeth in its riffing patterns and kicks almost as much ass. We even get the quintessential material about lost love in "Miss You to Death" and "Tears Have Come," rendered perfectly in biting but melancholy minor chords. The big tom hits in these tracks are also totally classic. Nobody plays the toms like that anymore, especially the way they are used as a segue or bridge into the final chorus. I realized how much I miss that but now with Cauldron delivering the goods I no longer have to. Of course all this material is rehashed and no one should think it would be otherwise, but it is in the perfect execution of it that the band succeed. If you ever loved '80s hard rock/metal, get on the Cauldron train immediately. They offer the opportunity to relish the past while still remaining in the present, a precious gift to all us aging metalheads.

In 2009 Amorphis staged one hell of a comeback with Skyforger, burning away eight years of humdrum and even outright bad music. At first I thought that The Beginning of Times, while clearly being quite good and along the same lines as Skyforger, did not quite have the "it" factor that made it listworthy. A few listens later I forgot all about that foolish notion and was hooked all over again. Lead-off track "Battle for Light" is just classic Amorphis, majestic and beautiful and expertly wrought. The soaring keyboards and mixture of harsh/clean vocals makes me feel like I'm listening to Tuonela or even Elegy. "Mermaid" is more modern but the main melody is excellent, as is the female vocal behind it. Adding female vocals was a ubiquitous (and often tiresome) practice in the '90s but the subtle method in which they are employed here is perfect. The same can be said of the enchanting "Soothsayer." "My Enemy" leverages some genuine brutality with guttural vocals and staccato percussion in its pre-chorus build. "Song of the Sage" is a reminder of this band's, and so many bands', roots with an opener that is a glorious homage to Iron Maiden, albeit probably more like Maiden's middle period than what is regarded by many as the most classic material. It is still highly effective though, a bright and regal introduction. "Three Words" is my favorite track of all, with magnificent guitar melodies under each verse that ring out with brightness, clarity and emotional impact. "Crack in a Stone" features more classic keyboard work akin to that of the early days. I could go on and on; there are 13 tracks here and not one of them is a dud or even remotely weak. After 21 years in existence Amorphis are once again a towering force of progressive Scandinavian metal.

Well here is a union I never saw coming: ubiquitous leader of the gothic post-black metal scene Neige has teamed up with Ukrainian folk/black maestros Drudkh to form Old Silver Key. Apparently Alcest, Amesoeurs, Lantlôs, Peste Noire and several other bands were not enough to satisfy the prolific Neige. Over the years Drudkh have moved from epic pagan black metal to acoustic folk and back again, ending up in 2010 with the seriously Katatonia-inflected Handful of Stars. On Tales of Wanderings, despite outnumbering Neige four-to-one, they succumb to his trademark style. And that is no bad thing. Vocals are clean and downright pretty, totally shoegaze, but effective in their own right. Pairing them with blasting black metal is an enchanting formula, no less so here than it has been in Neige's other bands. "Cold Spring" is the absolute highlight, its centerpiece a gloriously melodic blackened buzzing riff that would make Burzum jealous. "November Nights Insomnia," "Nineteen Winters Far Away from Home" and "Burnt Letters" are all fine tracks in a similar vein, expertly balancing light and dark. "Burnt Letters" is also the most Drudkh-y of the bunch with a rather familiar riffing style I attribute to the band. I draw the line at "Star Catcher" however, the one track that I simply cannot abide. It is so sweetly poppy as to stray into saccharine territory. It warrants skipping and with only seven total tracks it is unfortunate to lose one, but the others more than make up for it. Closing number "About Which An Old House Dreams" runs nearly eight and one-half minutes and finishes out the affair strongly. It is open and airy, ambitious in scope but it pulls it off with aplomb. Neige really shines here, crooning with effortless style. The quiet piano section thatfinishesthetrackislikeoneyoumindfindroundingoutanAnathemaalbum. TalesofWanderingsis not a revelation but another strong entry into what is becoming a massive musical catalog for Neige, and Drudkh has never skimped on output either. This marriage between them, even if it ends up being only a one-time project, will stand as a great achievement of which they can both be proud.

Finland's Ghost Brigade are poised and waiting for commercial success. Stylistically they are a potent mix of Scandinavian neighbors Katatonia and Cult of Luna but the vocals are chart-topping gold. They are largely delivered cleanly and have a Layne Staley-esque quality about them that many (dare I say it) "nu metal" or modern hard rock bands can be found spewing all over popular radio. In fact, acoustic opening track "In the Woods" is reminiscent of something off Alice in Chains' Sap EP, though follower "Clawmaster" places them squarely in Cult of Luna/Isis territory. But for a perfect example of why this band could be a hit and the love of every angry teenager in America, reference "Grain." Rhythmically and vocally, this is the stuff of record producers' dreams. It may seem surprising that something so accessible is making this list and I found myself wondering the same thing. What makes this record great is that in addition to being polished and pretty and filled with angst-ridden ear candy it also has a great deal of depth. On the aforementioned "Grain" it is the addition of evocative melody that takes this track to the next level. "Breakwater" is right back in post-metal Isis/Neurosis land but halfway through reveals some very Paradise Lost-like melodies. "Cult of Decay" is just pure Katatonia in its opening moments, the singing sounding uncannily like Jonas Renske's, and the rest of the track is a damned fine approximation too. Although I first became familiar with Ghost Brigade several years ago, I somehow missed that the band is in some sense a side project of stoner rock group Sunride; three of the members are also in that band. Finale "Soulcarvers" brings this fact very much to light with its full, driving guitars and even the vocals despite the fact that the vocalist is not one of those Sunride members (though he was in the virtually unknown groove rock band Paraxism which delights me greatly). All these personnel details aside, the track is magnificently powerful and such a fitting way to end the album. Ghost's Brigade's ability to switch so convincingly between the styles of Katatonia/Paradise Lost and Cult of Luna/Isis makes them a curiosity in the metal world, as does their strangely radio-friendly sound. While I really do think they could give modern rock darlings a run for their money they display conviction and a melodic sense that put them on a whole other level. They may never see commercial success and maybe that will leave them languishing in relative obscurity, but for those of us in the know there is much to love here.

Demonaz, along with Abbath, formed the stable core of Norwegian black metal kings Immortal from the time of their genesis. Other members came and went while this diabolical duo firmly placed their frosty mark upon the black metal scene. Sadly, the development of acute tendinopathy effectively put an end to Demonaz's ability to play guitar, certainly the kind of speed guitar for which Immortal was then known. He is still considered a member of the band and has contributed lyrically but not musically since 1997. 2011 finally brought a proper solo offering from the man and here he contributes vocal duties. Over the last decade Immortal has continually worked old-school thrash influences into their sound, resulting in a blackened groove on many tracks that undoubtedly sets many heads a-bangin'. March of the Norse continues in a similar vein but is far less blackened whilst being much more melodic and power metal-like. The soaring and majestic guitars near the end of "All Blackened Sky" offer quick proof of that. The hordes of Blashyrkh need not fear; there is definitely still an undercurrent of Immortal-style riffing throughout. And talk about headbangability -- most of these tracks move at a fist pumping, mid-paced tempo that rocks hard and with conviction. "A Son of the Sword" is an excellent example and also features a superb guitar solo. Hot on its heels is the powerhouse "Where Gods Once Rode," one of the strongest tracks, dripping with spectacular melody lines that support the verses, holding at the end of each one and ringing triumphantly. This track embodies Scandinavian heavy metal at its finest; it is the stuff of frozen, windswept mountainsides, arms raised and crying out to Valhalla to sing in unison with ancient ancestral warriors. It is epic in a way that only this kind of material can be. "Under the Great Fires" is no slouch in that department either, once again laying on melodies that many other bands would kill for, ripping through the icy darkness with a clarion call to glorious battle. Ironically, what may be my favorite song here is a bonus track and is not even new material. "Dying Sun" dates way back to 1998 and believe it or not bears a striking resemblance to AC/DC. It is an instrumental track that locks into a sinister crawl akin to that which is a rare treasure in the AC/DC catalog, found in tracks such as "Squealer," "Spellbound" and the intro to "Hells Bells." I have always loved that sound and for it to bizarrely show up here is a thrill. I am also glad for its inclusion because its grim chords are such a fitting way to end the album. More than anything else, the purity and sincerity of Demonaz's material is what cements this release as one of the year's best. It is a rollicking, leather-and-spike-studded good time that any soldier of metal would be hard-pressed to deny.

I think many would argue that Metal Blade Records' best days are long behind them. Yet they have made some surprising acquisitions over the last few years, most notably veterans Hammers of Misfortune and Primordial. 40 Watt Sun indicates the label may also be adept at finding new talent. From the moment the first powerhouse chords of The Inside Room hit my ears I was intrigued. This UK trio practices the art of melancholy doom but they are by no means the average offering in that arena. They neither get bogged down in the trappings of molasses-paced plodding that can become tedious, nor do they add so many frills as to be cheesy and absurd. The vocals are clean and rather monotone in a middle register but Patrick Walker sounds genuine, his voice occasionally breaking with emotion. The band's ace in the hole, however, is the guitar tone. While the material is unquestionably doom, never moving beyond a trudge, the guitar's heaviness is not derived from how low it is tuned. Certainly there are many bands in this sub-genre that sound deeper and more rumbling. When 40 Watt Sun hit their doom riffs it is not so much the earth that shudders as it is the very air. There is a sort of beautifully crystallized distortion around the riffs that make them crackle, hum, buzz and bounce around your skull infinitely. No single riff is ever allowed to complete or die away; Walker, also the sole guitarist, simply morphs that distortion into a different chord each time. The result is a delightfully impenetrable wall of lush sound. Despite the coupling of this massive attack with track lengths that run in excess of nine and ten minutes, the band manage the impressive feat of never sounding tired or becoming boring. A couple of acoustic passages help in this regard as well. The one at the end of "Restless" is backed by gentle percussion and does a lovely job of easing the song to its completion. "Open My Eyes" ends similarly, the acoustic guitar standing alone this time, exquisitely beautiful and doleful. But really it is that fascinating guitar tone that holds interest and never fatigues the ears. There are subtle harmonics within the notes too, especially the gorgeously shimmering "This Alone" which bears down like an emotional freight train. Those huge chords resonating out to endless horizons, this song blankets the listener in inescapable sadness and longing and is the album's defining moment as well as its finale. Despite their doomed and downtrodden ways the band also create a strange lightness from the combination of the sincere vocals and unique guitar sound. This delicate balance of dark and light may ultimately be what makes this album so compelling. 40 Watt Sun are off to an auspicious start and I look forward to more from them.

Caïna's former full-length album, Temporary Antennae, was a work of almost indescribable beauty and fragility. There were black metal elements, but of the more postmodern variety and they were intertwined with goth and new wave leanings. So when Hands That Pluck came charging out of the speakers like Darkthrone's evil(er) twin, my jaw was somewhere down on the floor. Truly, the comparison of "Profane Inheritors" to Darkthrone is no joke or exaggeration. Caïna has the blackened punk shuffle down pat. The band being who they are, they do diverge from the style in the last couple minutes of the track, injecting melody at first and then spiraling into a final minute of ambient celestial noise. "Murrain" is right back in sparse, frigid territory, bashing away through thin analog production, Andrew Curtis Brignell's voice a hoarse and broken crackle. Over its ten and one-half minutes the track moves from old school black metal madness into gentler Caïna territory, then finishes at top speed, rattling and buzzing down into the nether realms. The excellently titled "The Sea of Grief Has No Shores" starts with vocal distortion that smacks of The Mars Volta, then ever so slowly builds into a quiet, piano-driven song with atmospheric keyboards and delicate melody. More than any other track, this one could fit seamlessly into Temporary Antennae. By song's end it takes on a lovely, hopeful feel and then gets louder and heavier, but all in major chords so as to continue a feel of lightness and optimism. This happy interlude over, "Callus and Cicatrix" (hmm...another tie-in to The Mars Volta) is a weird and sprawling beast, vocals sometimes murmured, other times gruff and desperate, other times a hideous rasp. The track abruptly goes into some crazy jazz fusion tempo, then pours on a dose of grim black metal, then continues to bounce all over the map. It is at once progressive and avant-garde yet the harsh production keeps it in line with the rest of the tracks. "Somnium Ignis" is mean, stripped-down and unrelenting over the vast majority of its eleven-plus minutes, but "I Know Thee of Old" starts out soothing if slightly portentous, the chirping of birds hovering over an ambient backbone and brightly strummed guitar. It turns somewhat ominous but otherwise gives little warning of another searing, trebly black metal attack that bursts forth like a berserker. Morphing to a mid-tempo break section, it meanders to a slow period with almost cartoonish vocals, dips into ambient, then resumes a blackened aural drilling even more furiously than before, seeming to take vengeance for the slower parts that preceded it. And this eclectic dance keeps going, so much so that documenting all the twists and turns of the track would prove an extensive, exhausting task. "Ninety-Three" devotes its first 30 seconds or so to tearing your face off in a blazing hellscape of whirling rusty razor blades then drops to a plod for a slow build back to more thrashing. As it turns out, the last half of this track holds the very best moments of the entire album. After a mid-paced section with urgent vocals and atmospheric melodies welling up, the final two minutes switch over to...power metal? You better believe it. Soaring, glimmering, speed-drenched guitar histrionics tear through the track like a cyclone, punctuated by sudden stops that allow soulful notes to shine. I have to admit it is no bad thing to finish your album with its strongest moments. It is a tactic that leaves the listener shaking his/her head in disbelief and starting the whole album over again for want of working back to that finale. I would rather Caïna smother my soul with lush depressive gray than fracture my skull with grim freezing black, but either way they absolutely deserve credit for creativity and making an indelible mark upon the musical world.

From 1997 to 2001 there existed a New York City band called Slow Horse. That was the heyday of stoner rock and they garnered some recognition in the scene. Ten years later I would seriously doubt that I could find many people who remember them at all and that is a genuine shame because their style of stoner doom was arguably simplistic but very effective. Although there is is no evidence that True Widow have any knowledge of Slow Horse whatsoever, for me the spirit of the 'Horse is reborn in this Dallas trio. The difference is that they are the "alternative" Slow Horse. Think Sonic Youth or The Jesus and Mary Chain but tuned lower -- WAY lower. The chords are thick, yet these massive cudgels are wielded with precision. Vocals are both female and male, sometimes layered in harmony for a dreamy feel. So are they a shoegaze band gone stoner doom or a doom band gone shoegaze? Given that the band themselves use the term "stonegaze" I think that is answer enough. As High As... is their second album and arguably not quite as good as their stellar self-titled debut but there is still no shortage of sodden treats here. "Blooden Horse" and "Boaz" are my favorite tracks. Both are even more languid than the others with a potent darkness at their cores that takes the low-tuned heaviness and makes it feel that much heavier. Both have repeated bass lines that lazily lounge about, drawing out the tracks in a blissful murk. "Boaz" also has an absolutely sizzling guitar solo, drenched in reverb, bluesy as hell, a soulful outpouring that few bands ever really pull off. "NH" starts off with sharp doom riffs, all full of attitude, but settles into hazy slowcore with lots of that male/female vocal harmony. "Night Witches" is surprisingly uptempo and a balls-out rock song in comparison to its sloth-like neighbors. Its gritty distortion is especially appealing. "Doomseer" is an ideal finale, thudding along with a resolute scowl on its face. In its closing minutes a guitar begins to squeal and hum, twisting into feedback. Soon there is nothing but emptiness punctuated by dying twangs and chatterings on the strings like creatures gasping for air, then a final ambient wave. True Widow have their influences and maybe they are a sum of those parts, but to these ears they sound fresh and vital. No other band commands such a mastery of shoegazey slowcore married with rumbling sludge and the formula is incredibly successful.

I will forgive The Morningside this goofy album title, presumably a play on the word "trilogy" given that there are three songs based around the concept of trees. I will forgive them making an entire album about trees. I will forgive them the pretentious parenthetical album title. I will even forgive them for releasing what is essentially only 66% new material. I will forgive them all of these transgressions because they remain, as they have since their 2007 debut, a magical, unique and beloved entity. On the aforementioned three-track debut entitled The Wind, the Trees and the Shadows of the Past, the second track being "The Trees" (see how clever they are?), the band were apparently left wanting in pursuit of their artistic vision. Having a desire to more thoroughly express and expand upon "The Trees" they revisit that track here as merely Part One then add on Parts Two and Three to complete the opus. To be fair, Part One is not just regurgitated but totally re-recorded. Aside from cleaner (but unfortunately colder) production, the differences feel slight. There are nearly three additional minutes of running time on the track but they are really just used to draw out the intro. The song is still resplendent, with hypnotic melody lines that will stick in your head for days. Part Two continues in the same vein with pristine and sparkling guitar work rife with emotion. At roughly the halfway point there is a section where the bass and drums go silent and only a guitar is heard. The deep loneliness of its tone is nearly palpable and when it is soon joined by a second guitar playing the same melody in tandem the effect is intensified. It is one of many spellbinding moments showcasing exquisite songcraft. Part Three is over 21 minutes long and takes its sweet time on the journey. Its highlight is a slow, scaled melody that is introduced about a third of the way through, then revisited again near the end. By then it has become even more somber and languid, yet powerfully intentional and relentless, ultimately fading and echoing into a distant horizon of ambient dreamscape which in turns drowns in the soothing sound of rain and thunder. There is something truly special about The Morningside. In their earlier days they tapped into the haunting power of Katatonia's Brave Murder Day, undoubtedly an inspiration at the time. On TreeLogia there is definitely still some of the Kat vibe, but their sound is also reminiscent in a way of Opeth's masterful Morningrise album. That is to say these elegant chords and melodies strike deeply at something within me. They take me back to a time when I first stood in stunned amazement at that Opethian majesty, reveling in a new, rich, rewarding sound. Those are cherished memories, and now too I cherish the present as the trees whisper and sing...

After delivering To the Nameless Dead in 2007, a very accessible album that I instantly loved and later proclaimed to be their finest, Primordial has followed up with something of an enigma. Redemption...is a grower to be sure, a hearkening back to Storm Before Calm or The Gathering Wilderness, albums that I adore but that required many listens before I realized their greatness. These songs are long, over half of them in the eight-plus minute range, and they unfold like lengthy tales. "Lain with the Wolf" is an exception --- not in the length department, but in how incredibly compelling it was even early on. It has an odd, shuffling percussive time signature that left me bewildered for the first several listens. It is not all that perplexing once you become accustomed to it but early on it seemed exotic and mystifying. The real potency of the song lies in its lyrics. "I have lain with the lamb," proclaims the ever-wondrous A.A. Nemtheanga, "and sang his tender praise on long, dark nights." Then in the following verse:

"I have lain with the wolf,
the seeks me out and demands my company
In the corner of a crowded room,
with words of madness and water of fire
He whispers when the demons come,
'Do you make peace with them?
Or do you become one of them?'"

This song is the profound struggle of faith, of light versus dark, of good versus evil. Naturally the conclusion finds the storyteller falling prey to the ways of the wolf. "You cannot escape the beast when you wear his mark," after all. The passion and sincerity with which the song is delivered showcases Nemtheanga at his best and the mesmerizing melodic riffing that enters midway through, then is thickened with dual-guitar harmony, is absolute gold. While this track is paramount, many other treasures abound. "No Grave Deep Enough" is irresistibly powerful, a clarion call to heathen hordes that shall not rest even in death. With a rollicking pace and spectacular melodies, it is the kind of track that when performed live would destroy the room. "Bloodied Yet Unbowed" is a great example of a song that did not make a strong impression on me initially but over time and repeated listens it emerged as one of my favorites. Slow and subtle, it is actually deeply passionate and finally explodes into raging black metal, its final moments strongly reminiscent of Moonsorrow's more recent material. "The Puritan's Hand" is another highlight, moving at a sinister creep for the first several minutes, then ramping up to a forceful middle tempo punctuated by driving percussive breaks surrounded by excellent melodies. The overall effect is one of determinedly pushing forward then breaking free with surging power, leaving a feeling of strength and invigoration. I feel like I am breathing heavier from some imagined exertion after this track; certainly it quickens the pulse. Simply put, there is something almost indescribably epic about Primordial, something that echoes the magnificence and deep tragedy of their Irish homeland. Their catalog now spans fifteen years and I still have yet to encounter a band that sound like them. They are unique and beautiful and amazing -- again like the emerald isle from whence they come.

The west coast of the US continues to dominate black metal. Deafheaven hail from San Francisco, home of the progenitors of the modern USBM movement -- the mighty Weakling. Perhaps out of sheer coincidence, perhaps out of unabashed worship, or perhaps because of something in the San Francisco municipal water supply, Deafheaven do a damned fine job of channeling Weakling throughout the course of Roads to Judah. They are not an imitation but there is a primal undercurrent to their sound that is undeniably linked to their musical ancestors. It is in the way the melodies writhe and shimmer in the background, urgent and intense. Of course there is also a strong resemblance to the band that would carry the flag after Weakling: Wolves in the Throne Room. After a long WITTR-style intro, "Violet" rumbles to life with clattering, bone-jarring percussion, flailing away in high gear. Seven minutes in comes the melodic attack of mesmerizing guitar, summoning Weakling's beauty and ferocity. "Language Games" immediately besets upon the eardrums with searing blackened speed, then takes a turn toward what I might dare to call atmospheric emo, something in the range of Underoath back when that band was still good. There is something more too....maybe a little Jupiter-era Cave In. Black metal by way of postmodern rock? Such an approach sets the band apart as not just another group of speed-loving misfits. Another way in which they certainly differ from their predecessors is their use of '80s new wave elements. The Cure's influence pops up here and there. The opening of "Unrequited" has a distinct vibe of Caïna, a band that has been known to fully pray at the altar of '80s goth, as does the latter portion of "Tunnel of Trees." Both of these tracks are masterfully wrought. Once "Unrequited" slips off the cloak of its quiet, introspective intro it suddenly careens back toward Weakling territory at breakneck pace, burning the air with a compelling buzzfest of melody. Then it takes on more of a mid-tempo rock sensibility, hitting some cool drawn-out guitar notes before another headrush of hypnotic speed. "Tunnel of Trees" is all menace out of the gate, seething an epic darkness upon which I think both WITTR and Weakling alike would place their filthy stamps of approval. Deafheaven brew a potent concoction, strangely modern yet primitive at the same time. If they are the young up-and- comers in the scene then I hold no fear for its future.

Low have been creating astonishing works of slowcore magic for almost twenty years now but C'mon is a trickier creature. Sure it is instantly recognizable as being another quality product from the trio but while other albums have had an immediacy to them, this one had to settle in with me for a bit. I even doubted at one time that it would make this list; it just didn't wow me right out of the gate or within the first several listens because I felt as if it were lacking some critical element, something that stopped short of greatness. Given time, though, it becomes clear just how impressive it truly is and the wow factor is plentiful if more subtle. Opener "Try to Sleep" is either fittingly or ironically named, as its slow tempo and twinkling keys are a soothing lullaby. "You See Everything" is a fine enough tune, most notable for the lilting vocal harmonies led by the always-amazing Mimi Parker, but "Witches" is the turning point of the album. It is a big, lazy track with open-ended guitar notes that vibrate the air and would seemingly echo into infinity if Low but let them. Better yet, on the second verse there appears a banjo (which I invariably adore) that dances lightly across the surface of the song. In the last third of the track there is a guitar break that is total Cowboy Junkies, all warm and rich and dripping with soul. One begins to notice a pervasive element of these tracks: an undeniable country western influence. "Done" gets its country twang courtesy of lap steel guitar and the instrument has never sounded so magical to my ears, its mournful notes practically acting like another voice in call and response with Alan Sparhawk. "Especially Me" is one of the most staggeringly perfect songs that Low have ever crafted and if I were to award Song of the Year then this one would surely be it. Airy, morose and achingly lovely, it is made all the better by the lyrics, especially the profoundly moving chorus. It also brings some of the offbeat tongue-in-cheek humor that is just another facet of what make Low so enticing. "Some songs feel like butter, some songs sound like cake" sings the sublime Parker, "this little number is for your sake." These curious and playful words, plunked into what sounds like a deadly serious song, make it all the more wondrous. "$20" and "Majesty/Magic" are quintessential slowcore greatness, the former the antithesis of rock yet monstrously heavy in its way, the latter hitting a wall-of-noise crescendo by the end. "Nightingale" is spacey and ethereal, divinely sad and exquisite. Again I hear the Cowboy Junkies here but it is also classic Low. "Nothing But Heart" is simply brilliant, opening with huge droning guitar reminiscent of Earth in one of Dylan Carlson's more musical moments. From there it builds and builds, seeming like it may never stop, the lyrics comprised of almost nothing but the title words uttered repeatedly; guitars shimmer, rattle and sing, growing in volume and intensity until a glorious cacophony is achieved, drenched in a country rock vibe. This track has the feel of some amazing jam session, like the night you caught one of your favorite bands and they took a five-minute song and made it a twenty-minute song, looping and building and resonating everything back upon itself until the roof of the venue threatened to burst asunder and bring the heavens crashing down upon you. Fucking transcendent. Closing track "Something's Turning Over" is practically a feel-good song for the band with its hummable and retro-feeling chorus, like something from a '70s family variety hour. Yet its irresistibly catchy lightness is offset by its disturbing lyrics, as this band does oh so well. Lines such as "...you better get out while you can," "Angels setting fire to the ocean..." and "...just because you never hear their voices, don't mean they won't kill you in your sleep" are more akin to something you'd hear from a death metal band but such paradox is another hallmark of Low and a part of their uncanny genius. As I stated earlier, it took me a long time to grow to revere this album. Maybe that is what its title is all about: c'mon, as in c'mon, you know you want to join us for this ride. Having accepted that invitation and stayed on the journey, I can tell you it is nothing but immensely rewarding.

With this album Wolves in the Throne Room complete the trilogy that was started in 2007 with Two Hunters and continued in 2009 with Black Cascade. The band have always dedicated themselves to environmental and pagan themes; they have sought to capture the essence of their Pacific Northwest homeland and translate its stunning primeval beauty into their music. On Celestial Lineage they achieve that goal, yet it is not in the moments of scathing blackness that they do so (and it would be hard to beat Two Hunters' "I Lay Down My Bones Among the Rocks and Roots" in this regard). Rather they crystallize their pagan visions through the ambient interludes and non-BM tracks. WITTR are no longer the hungry young pioneers; they have become the elder statesmen and experience and eloquence have become their greatest weapons. Out of the seven tracks here, only three are "real" black metal songs. "Thuja Magus Imperium" is one of them but sounds rather like "Dea Artio" in its opening moments, coaxed along by Jessika Kenney's gorgeous vocals, then soon enough sets about the business of meditative buzzing/melodic shoegaze brilliance. Its melodies are as trance-inducing as almost anything the band has done up to this point. Its successor "Permanent Changes in Consciousness" features monastic-style chanting contributed by Isis' Aaron Turner but the icing on the cake of this track is what sounds distinctly like a knife blade being drawn across a sharpening stone. This sound is repeated fifteen times across the duration of the track and is at once both beautiful and disturbing. There is something so base and primal about it and it effectively conjures a deep spirit of paganism. "Rainbow Illness" (a title I find viscerally perverse for some reason) is strangely contrary to the other nature-inspired sounds of the album. It is cold and mechanical but I suspect that is the precisely the point. It is an intrusion of the hated industrial world into these serene landscapes. "Woodland Cathedral" sounds like exactly that. Beautiful female vocals, once again courtesy of the amazing Jessika Kenney, hover above an ambient buzz, rising and falling with lovely inflection, sounding at times as if they are being chanted in Latin. Nature is WITTR's church and they worship amongst the trees; there is no greater chapel in which to offer prayers to Mother Earth. "Prayer of Transformation" climaxes with furious, brain-enveloping buzzing that abruptly stops, leaving 45 seconds of airy near-silence. Celestial Lineage is a complex, subtle work, shrouded in mysticism. For some time this complexity had me loving the album one minute and being lukewarm on it the next, though I think that may be exactly what convinced me of its worthiness. Learning to appreciate it has been a very, very long road for me. It does not come easily; it does not cozy up to your eardrums with instant accessibility. Like a deer leaping through one of the band's beloved forests, it must be pursued with determination and patience. Aaron Weaver himself stated in an interview with NPR that "When we were making this record, we were always very conscious that this was the last thing we will do in this incarnation of Wolves in the Throne Room." It is not entirely clear what that means. He goes on to indicate that they have intentions of making more music but it may come from a band with a very different musical direction or a different name altogether. Should this opus truly be their swan song then I bid thee a fond farewell, glorious pagan warriors.

In 2009 Altar of Plagues dropped White Tomb upon an unsuspecting metal world. Ireland has its great metal bands, Primordial not the least among them, and they as well as others have played black metal. But Altar of Plagues was something else altogether, a group of upstarts that deeply embraced the sound of pagan black metal masters Wolves in the Throne Room and delivered it with spine-chilling conviction. White Tomb was one of the best albums of its year and a mere two years later we are treated to another seething black beast known simply as Mammal. Once again only containing four songs, which are once again quite lengthy, this release is crowned as the best of this year's black metal crop for the same reasons why White Tomb was so successful: urgency and intensity. After an ominous, dissonant intro, "Neptune is Dead" shifts into gear, pops the clutch, slams on the accelerator and never looks back. The furious, blasting, melodious buzz is sheer ecstasy, as in the eyes-rolling-back-in-your-head kind of ecstasy. The vocals are feverish, crazed, desperate and up the ante that much more. The song clocks in at a massive 18:44 but of course does not maintain this pace the entire time, switching off to middle tempos while melodies swirl and dazzle the senses. It also sounds rather like Isis at several points which is a fascinating twist for the band. A minute shy of the halfway point it unleashes a scaled melody that is profoundly stirring and tugs at the very soul. Where "Neptune..." is epic and hypnotic, "Feather and Bone" is a merciless juggernaut, more death metal than black, with breathtakingly fast double bass. It starts with echoing riffs and light cymbal crashes then brings on jaw-dropping fury. Those spacey riffs persist, though, and they are a perfect counterpart to the unrelenting beatdown. When the pressure eases up and the vocals begin their pleading cries the guitars maintain a light touch, firing off bright notes that add incredible texture. The track speeds into black metal territory, drops back for a slow rebuild, reverts back to the deadly machine-gun percussion within the final two minutes then goes screaming into the black metal stratosphere. "When the Sun Drowns in the Ocean" is a little weak in the middle but is easily saved by its intro and outro. It begins with a young woman's voice, high and haunting and mellifluous. It is the sound of beauty itself, soaring free and untouchable. The instrumental passage that follows is slightly menacing, punctuated by doomy guitar chords, but mostly reserved and introspective. As it fades away a woman's voice returns but the fair maiden is gone, replaced by a crone. There is a Native American character to her voice but it is shriveled, small and monotone. I can picture her huddled in dim light, rocking back and forth. At more than one point she sounds as if she is singing "oh no, oh noooo..." She becomes ever more distant, fading away and overtaken by feedback. The song, of course, is brilliant metaphor. The sun "drowns" in the ocean at sunset, marking day's end, or on a macrocosmic scale signifying the end of life. The voice is the same woman, first young and lovely, then reduced to almost nothing as her life sinks into darkness. The track is proof positive of Altar of Plagues' serious creative and artistic vision. The album is rounded out by "All Life Converges to Some Centre," the title alone expressing beautiful pagan sentiment. Melancholy guitar strums lead it in, the vocals clean and almost done as a chant or chorus. Like "Neptune..." the song is palpably epic with rushing black metal passages and visceral melody that stirs pagan hearts. Yet it is also very purposeful, stretching out and building to expanses of huge sound, enveloping the ears in a lush miasma. White Tomb put Altar of Plagues firmly at the center of the metal map. Mammal just proves they are there to stay and a stunning force with which to be reckoned.

Rationally I know that any city of significant size likely has a thriving music scene but Salt Lake City, Utah does not spring readily to mind when I think of metal hotbeds. Yet last year brought the impressive debut of one-man wonder Gallowbraid and now here we have another precious gift to the world of heavy music. When you think about it, it makes sense...right or wrong, Utah is most closely associated with the Mormon culture and its trappings, most notably fundamentalist polygamy and the repression engendered therein, as well as beliefs in chastity and abstaining from alcohol consumption. From repression inevitably comes rebellion, a dark underbelly that is fueled by a rejection of social norms. That may be be a simplistic distillation of SubRosa's motivations but the root of them matters not. What matters is that No Help for the Mighty Ones is a stunning juxtaposition of beauty and darkness, the likes of which I have never heard done is such a way before. The band members are predominantly female and so are the vocals. They are mostly sung cleanly and in largely somber tones, though a tense edge is also present at times. Their instrumental accompaniment is thunderous, soul-quaking doom metal but that alone is not what makes this recording so special. Rather it is the inclusion of electric violin which quite often actually sounds more like horns. Atonal yet melodic, sickly yet majestic, it spills forth like the heralds of mad, decrepit royalty. Virtually every song is colored by these creepy tones and the effect is deliciously unnerving. Powerful opener "Borrowed Time, Borrowed Eyes" is merely a taste of what will follow. The opening bass chords of "Beneath the Crown" are practically subsonic, creeping up from the core of the earth through fetid sludge, and they lead the way to a massive barrage of pummeling riffs. Lyrically the song is based on the book War Against the Weak: Eugenics and America’s Campaign to Create a Master Race, about a perverse early 20th century movement to sterilize the lower echelons of society to prevent them from reproducing in an effort to create a master race. Fittingly, the words "Spare me from your kingdom" are repeated throughout the song in a layered clean/shrieking approach for added emphasis. "Stonecarver" is simply a masterpiece, a slithering menace of a track that builds to a mid-tempo climax halfway through, the guitars ethereal and trance-inducing, before settling into some very Electric Wizard-like doomy funk and gorgeous, smothering distortion. "There's no help for the mighty ones now" come the closing words and the album's namesake, nor is there any hope for your mind, reeling from the incredible attack of this song. Forget about any respite though, as "The Inheritance" is up next and pours on the bleakness, despair, and more crushing metallic weight. This track is a fine example of the sort of lyrical themes to be found here. Witness:

"They say the meek
Shall inherit the earth
But all I see are the helpless
Crushed by the wheel of man"

As if that were not enough, the song spirals to its finale with the verse "We're in the shadow of a dying world" repeated over and over, followed by what sounds like a music box lullaby. The listener cannot help but emerge from the song stricken with hopelessness and loss. Huddled there, the waves of "Attack on Golden Mountain" crash upon you and, despite all the behemoth doom chords up to this point, bring the album's heaviest moment of all. At about the three-minute mark the song goes quiet, marked only by bass, harmonica and the occasional chime. It is a deceptive build to a mind-shattering explosion of heavy riffage, tuned insanely low, grinding and shuddering and so blissfully amazing as to be nearly unbearable. It is an exceptional homage to Finnish doom masters Reverend Bizarre at their very finest. Quite simply, this is as good as doom metal gets. "Whippoorwill" is a juggernaut that moves at a trudge, sounding distinctly like the underrated and dearly missed Slow Horse, but has a delicate side as well and an uplifting feel with the line "And one day I'll be like a bird in flight." Now at this point in the album six tracks have gone by and taken on their own they would have been enough to distinguish this release as a remarkable triumph. But in a twist of genius the band have the balls to include an a cappella Irish folk song. This moment is the one that really put the album over the edge for me and cemented its greatness. The song is lovely, tragic and heartbreaking -- all the things you would expect from an Irish folk song -- and its inclusion here among colossal doom metal tracks shows how fearless and inspired SubRosa truly are. "Dark Country" is a sinister and excellent finale,lurching to a close with gigantic riffs and a final hum of low-end distortion. No Help for the Mighty Ones is a total coup, a momentous release that will easily stand among the greatest of the decade, let alone this year. It is the hands-down best release of 2011; nothing else even came close.