When Windhand’s Soma came out in 2013, I proclaimed it the successor to Electric Wizard’s Dopethrone. Little did I know that Monolord would take that throne a mere year later, but that didn’t change the fact that Soma was monstrously heavy, an absolute behemoth of a record. All the more curious was I, then, to see what the next album would bring.

The truth is that Grief’s Infernal Flower is not as heavy. But to maintain some perspective here, we’re talking about a pile of bricks falling on your head being slightly lighter than that larger pile of bricks that fell on your head previously. You might notice the difference, but the bottom line is that you still took blunt force trauma to the skull. And while GIF does not produce the same earthquake-inducing frequencies, it’s no lightweight.

What saves this album -- or really what elevates it -- is the songwriting. Soma surely brought some hooks and grooves to the party, but GIF unquestionably shows the band reaching greater maturity in their craft. For one thing, they double down on the standout acoustic tracks, unfurling two here to Soma’s one, “Evergreen.” And as great as “Evergreen” is, “Sparrow” and “Aition” plumb a well of dark, soulful Americana that takes them to another level. The material is akin to what vocalist Dorthia Cottrell did on her solo album this year, at least what I’ve heard of it. “Aition” in particular is achingly beautiful, and is incredibly fitting as the album’s finale.

While I greatly enjoy these quiet tracks, Grief’s Infernal Flower is about far more than dynamics or variation. Even within the sprawling doom beasts that trudge across the rest of the album, there are many delights to be found. Take the main rhythm line of “Forest Clouds,” for example. It utterly rocks, in so much as Windhand ever rock, and I never tire of hearing it. The chord arrangements make it sound fresh and inviting. “Kingfisher” is similarly appealing, but more because Dorthia’s vocals are delivered in a lilting, mesmerizing, croon. So too with the chorus of “Tanngrisnir;” it can lull one into a dreamlike state.

If there’s any one track here that delivers punishment along the lines of prior material, it’s “Hesperus.” It packs a massive punch, its tempo throttling up and down, and is absolutely pulverizing when at its slowest. This song takes its time to slowly burn and burrow through your ear canals, and smothers you with its weight in the process.

Coming off of Soma, it is rather easy to be critical of Grief’s Infernal Flower at first. It doesn’t immediately move any sonic mountains or generate the shockwaves to crumble them to dust, but shows instead a band dipping into a deeper creative wellspring and coming to the surface with impressive results. If Windhand’s war hammer of doom is no longer swung with as much force, it is only because the spike on the back of it is all the more wickedly sharp.

Get crushed here: https://windhandva.bandcamp.com/album/griefs-infernal-flower

In the wide world of a music obsessive there is no finishing line. One does not ever reach some point where all great albums or bands have been acquired or appreciated, or even just discovered. And then there is that most vexing of phenomena where one is fully aware of a band for years, even decades, but somehow fails to explore the material. Back the late ‘90s/early ‘00s heyday of stoner/desert rock, Acid King released Busse Woods on probably the most iconic label of the time, Man’s Ruin Records. I used to see that album on a website I frequented, yet I don’t remember ever hearing tracks from it. If I did, I apparently wrote them off due to some cosmic wrong time/wrong place misfortune. For a misfortune it was, and 16 years later I was made all too aware I missed the boat.

Middle of Nowhere is no ordinary stoner album. The guitar tone is fucking immense and never, ever lets up, but what really makes this record is something less tangible. It’s what was described to me as a “slow burn” by a friend and music mentor. These songs all hover around the same level, none of them ever going off in some unexpected direction. Their speed doesn’t vary much. And through this consistency, one gets the sense of a persistent flame of doom that calmly but relentlessly smolders.

The record is bookended by the same intro/outro, an approach I often like for the way it ties everything together. In between, every song is great but the first one that really grabs the attention is “Coming Down From Outer Space.” This track has a murderously swaying groove, the aural equivalent of clinging to a wooly mammoth as it thunders across the tundra. Lori S’s vocal is rather hypnotic here and, combined with the thudding riffs, leaves you beaten and reeling. “Laser Headlights” is crushing for sure, but my preference is for “Red River,” a punishing dirge that slowly grinds everything in its path to dust. Ultimately, though, it is “Center of Everywhere” that rose to the top as my favorite. This colossal beast of a song unfurls a godlike drone of unearthly riffage that would set the universe aflame if we broadcast it into space, and it would collapse more than a few stars and planets along the way. True black hole doom.

I guess Acid King are a case of better late than never for me, but I will most certainly be paying closer attention from now on. Now, anyone wanna sell me an out-of-print copy of Busse Woods for anything less than a small fortune?

Experience your doom: https://acidking.bandcamp.com/album/middle-of-nowhere-center-of-everywhere

Some albums just reach out and grab you instantly. When I first heard Buried, my mind was spinning, picking out all the great influences I was hearing: 16 Horsepower, The Decemberists, Spain, and probably True Widow most of all. It’s one of those albums that is thus familiar, but leaves its own unique and indelible mark.

“Satan” starts things off with somber strings atop an ambient hum, then a squeal of feedback cues the entrance of warm, open-ended guitar chords that linger and echo. The pattern repeats, that feedback always acting as a harbinger of the explosion to come, those guitar riffs getting bigger and radiating outward. “Harpies” highlights the True Widow “stonegaze” aesthetic, all murk and melancholy, with a 16 Horsepower twang lurking just beneath. The high vocals occasionally crooning in the background are an excellent touch, and when the song shifts down in the last couple minutes and brings the heavy, watch out. Massive riffs erupt, crusted in distortion, and hit hard. These are big, bottom-heavy True Widow riffs at their best. Album highlight “Cripple” is up next, and drapes a suffocating slowcore pall over the affair. This track is paralyzing in its bleakness, culminating brilliantly in the line “Please leave me a cripple...and please leave me naive,” that is uttered barely above a whisper. And once again the latter part of the track goes total True Widow, even heavier than “Harpies,” with massive low end that could buckle asphalt or rattle out your fillings.

After that, unfortunately, the record eases up. “Causeway” has a Decemberists-like folksy moodiness about it that is enjoyable, but cannot hold a candle to the sheer power of the prior tracks. It’s also got an alt-country Wilco thing going which is well-executed, but not my favorite. “Freedom” is very good, with an enjoyable main melody line, but is really just a solid rock song. Things get back on track with “Pendulum,” an excellent tune with a dusty, mean Western swagger. But “Black Dog” trumps it and ends the album in style. It begins, oddly enough, sounding like Faith No More or Mr. Bungle doing one of their lounge songs. A slow and slithering, semi-funky bass line leads the way, the vocal low and and breathy. It ends in quite the opposite fashion, however, detonating in a Sunn0)))-like rumble. This thick wall of black distortion goes on for a full four minutes, relentless and smothering. Buried has its dark leanings, but here surprises with pure menace.

I’d have liked to see more consistency throughout this album, as the middle is a bit thin compared to the bombastic front and back, but there is no denying that it is impressive. Brother/Ghost encapsulate a multitude of great bands and ultimately come out sounding like only themselves. Here’s hoping for a fruitful career for the band, as they show immense promise.

Check out this unique and amazing band here: https://brotherghostband.bandcamp.com/album/buried

Obsequiae should have their own black metal heraldry. They specialize in a regal-sounding style that draws close comparison to Gods Tower. There is a kingly air about them that is well-suited to the photos of grand monasteries and temples that adorn the front, inside and back covers, photos in which these structures have been long since reclaimed by time and nature. These buildings are ancient, and so too do Obsequiae channel something ancient and truly special.

Among the three members we find a harpist, hardly a common position in a metal band, but his presence lends itself to the aura of antiquity. He provides several tracks of lovely interludes between the aggression of the black metal tracks. This is no typical black metal, however; the production is open and clean, the guitars ringing out clear and bright. Tanner Anderson’s voice brings the requisite black metal atmosphere, his cries harsh and echoey in contrast to the gleaming, soaring melodies. But the music is still firmly rooted in a black metal aesthetic, sometimes barreling forward at full speed, blast beats rumbling across this imperial court as in “Pools of a Vernal Paradise.”

All the non-instrumental tracks are equally strong, and the album presents itself more as a cohesive whole than as a collection of songs. Obsequiae are nothing short of magical, and as steeped in mysticism as their lyrics. Aria of Vernal Tombs is a unique, innovative and intriguing entry into the black metal pantheon.

Pay homage to their majesty: http://listen.20buckspin.com/album/aria-of-vernal-tombs-2

I first ran into Valkyrie in late 2011 while in San Francisco’s Aquarius Records. aQ, as it is known, is an iconic store that has a way of turning you on to all sorts of things. Valkyrie’s 2008 release, Man of Two Visions, has supremely cheesy cover art and somehow that, plus whatever clever little note aQ placed on it, grabbed my attention and convinced me I should give it a chance. Well as it turned out I was thrilled with that album, revelling in my quirky underground find. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, but that day my gamble paid off.

Fast forward four years and this band that I thought I would never see again has landed on Relapse Records, a major player in the metal scene. More importantly, Valkyrie are better than ever. With seven years between recordings, they apparently spent the time honing their classic doom-tinged heavy metal to a razor edge. As “Mountain Stomp” blasts to life with swinging groove, the vocal is total classic Pentagram. But what really makes the track shine are the flawlessly executed NWOBHM-style guitar melodies -- played in dual harmony no less! Yes, Valkyrie don’t just write classic heavy doom metal; they breathe it in and sweat it out. The whole album oozes with it. The melodies are spectacular, but so too are the frequent guitar solos, every one of which is incredibly soulful.

“Soulful” is an apt descriptor for the thunderous “Golden Age” as well, and “Temple” is probably closest to their prior material, with a quirky twang on the main guitar melody. When the solo hits, the passion it exudes is remarkable. By the end the NWOBHM-like melodies are furiously flying and awe-inspiring. “Shadow of Reality” brings some mid-’70s Black Sabbath at the intro, and finishes with more transcendent melodies. “Wintry Plains” is a favorite for its languid, blues-infused swagger and the slamming chorus. Plus the vocal here takes on a shade of Glenn Danzig in his prime, always a good thing. “Echoes (of the Ways We Lived)” reinstates the Pentagram worship and links it back again to timeless metal melodies. “Carry On” is fittingly epic for a closer, riddled with bluesy licks.

Two bits of interesting trivia here are that guitarist/vocalist Peter Adams is also a member of Baroness, and the album was produced by Sanford Parker of Buried at Sea and Corrections House. Anyone with even a passing knowledge of those three bands is aware that they’ve strayed pretty far away from this style of classic metal. And yet the fact that Adams and Parker are involved in this project is testament that they know and respect their roots. Valkyrie are the real deal, friends...and Shadows bleeds pure and glorious heavy metal.

Prepare to rock the fuck out: https://thevalkyrierides.bandcamp.com/album/shadows

Previously unknown to me, Elder apparently made waves with their 2012 Spires Burn/Release EP, though they have two full-lengths prior to that as well. I will now be heavily inclined to explore their back catalog, thanks to the powerhouse that is Lore.

I want to liken Elder to Earthless, though they are less noodly, less psychedelic, and quite a bit heavier. But the amazing guitar work that propels these songs is what brings to mind that other mostly instrumental group. And that’s a major difference between the bands: unlike all but one Earthless song, Elder have vocals. Nick DiSalvo’s voice is at once incredibly familiar, yet I have not been able to nail it down. It lies somewhere amongst Perry Farrell and the Jasons from ASG and Solace, but in a lower register. It is neither noteworthy nor problematic, but it can be forgiven because Mr. DiSalvo is also the guitarist. I give him plenty of leeway for pulling off the licks that he does; singing is secondary.

Lore is epically epic on an epic scale. The five tracks total a running time of nearly one hour, with the title track alone clocking in at nearly 16 minutes. Yet it manages to stay engaging, only rarely ever revealing its length through the feel of its pace. “Compendium” kicks the doors wide open with its rollicking groove -- this is the kind of song that would just kill in a live setting -- before settling into a slow simmer for the mid section, the cavernous riffs trembling with gorgeous distortion. It ratchets back up a couple notches as guitar wizardry abounds and the bass and drums are in absolute lock-step, the whole big beautiful machine humming so smoothly and kicking out the jams like nobody’s business.

“Legend” is all chill psychedelia for the first 90 seconds, a lovely and gentle melody threaded through it, before it grows many times its size with the arrival of giant riffs. It subsides back to into a soothing lull for the first verse and when the next barrage of gargantuan riffage hits, it roars in like a muscle car tweaked to maximum performance. There are definite shades of ASG in the title track, a song that took a little more time to grasp, but it offers plenty of reward. It turns into a big jam session filled with sparkling melodies, fat chords, and the tight musicianship that is just a given by this point. “Deadweight” is a subtle track that doesn’t have the same fireworks as others, but it is superb in its own right. If anything it’s a breather after its massive predecessor and before the spectacular “Spirit at Aphelion.” This closing track immediately dazzles with its musicality, the guitar melodies dancing atop the rhythm with stunning grace and eloquence. Later it churns and stomps through chugging riffs on its way to a final fade-out for the grand finale, thudding with wild abandon.

Elder have crafted a musician’s stoner rock record, truly tantalizing in tightness and execution, while still easily maintaining hooks and groove that compel righteous air guitar, foot tapping, and head nodding. This lore will live on for ages.

Prepare to rock the fuck farther out: https://beholdtheelder.bandcamp.com/album/lore

Upon first hearing this album, my thought was: “I don’t know if Austin Lunn of Panopticon knows the guys in Nechochwen, but if not, they should get together. It seems they would be best buddies.” Austin’s home state is Kentucky and the duo in Nechochwen are right next door in West Virginia. Perhaps it makes sense, then, that both produce a form of pagan black metal based more on Americana than on frostbitten Norwegian peaks. Well as it turns out, they do know one another, and Austin hand-drew Nechochwen’s logo! Go figure. In another weird coincidence, Tanner Anderson from Obsequiae did guest vocals on one song. I guess it’s a small, blackened world.

Associations aside, one thing is for certain: Nechochwen have black metal skills as tall and wide as the Appalachians. After an acoustic intro to set the mood, “The Serpent Tradition” comes screaming out of those mountain passes in a jaw-dropping melodic assault. While the style might be something you’d hear from their Cascadian counterparts on the other side of the country, the band soon bring in some clean vocals and guitar quite reminiscent of Opeth’s seminal Morningrise album before reverting back to the obsidian bliss for the rest of the song. After the instrumental “The Impending Winter,” “Lost on the Trail of the Setting Sun” attacks with even more fury than the first track, sounding very much like Panopticon. “October 6, 1813,” on the other hand, is again nearly a dead ringer for the acoustic sections of Morningrise. So too is the case with “Škimota,” while the instrumental “Skyhook” initially rages at top speed, yet is surprisingly upbeat with lots of major chords. As it withdraws to lovely acoustics for its middle portion, the guitar work is especially elegant. Opeth come to mind yet again, but this time Damnation is a more suitable reference point.

“Kišelamakong” makes for an impressive finale. Opening briefly with melancholy acoustic strains, the rhythmic pace increases with graceful melodies lightly skirting the surface. Then everything recedes as haunting Native American flute takes center stage, only to be swallowed by a wall of mammoth doom riffs rising up. One hardly has time to register shock and delight at this turn before it gets even better. A guitar enters in the warbling, flute-like style that I have always associated with Gods Tower. I adore that sound; it is rarely attempted but when done well there is nothing like it. So enchanting, powerful, and emotionally intense. It bridges the song to its final moments where spoken word is employed in tandem with clean singing to bring this epic saga to conclusion.

Lyrically, almost all of Heart of Akamon is based on the history of the eastern American woodlands in the late 18th/early 19th century. Mostly it deals with the tragedy that is the destruction of Native American tribes through European diseases, forced relocation, and battles. But there is a larger picture here that simply embraces that native mythology; “Kišelamakong” refers to “everything being in its place” and was inspired by the band and friends spending a day surrounded by nature, escaping the trappings of the modern world, and finding their connection back to the earth. It’s a beautiful notion that is well-suited to this beautiful and stirring album.

Hail the woodland glory here: http://nechochwen.com/album/heart-of-akamon

With members of Ash Borer and Fell Voices, one might guess that Vanum would deliver some hypnotic and atmospheric black metal. And one would be right. Californian by geography but utterly Cascadian by nature, this twosome deliver a relentless and thrilling attack of that which has become tried-and-true, but is still riveting when of this caliber.

All the hallmarks are here: there are only four tracks and three of them have 10+ minute run times. There are icy tremolo melodies galore. And the vocals are harsh and semi-distant cries of mystical gnosis, summoning the netherworld, casting down the heavens.

“Realm of Ascension” is immediately engrossing, pure and glorious Wolves in the Throne Room worship. After a few moments it is clear that there is inspired greatness here, the epic melodies effortlessly writhing their way through one’s consciousness. “In Immaterial Flame,” however, actually takes things up a notch. A deceptively soothing intro gives way to rumbling percussion and buzzsaw riffs, and when it suddenly slams the pedal down it becomes mesmerizing and breathtaking. Melodies violently see-saw across the guitar fretboard and the intensity goes off the charts. This spastic-yet-controlled section bears more resemblance to Krallice than traditional Cascadian BM, but comes out all the better for it. “Convergence” again starts gentle but picks up steam, and when a spiraling, intoxicating melody line enters around the three-minute mark, ecstasy ensues.The rhythm chord changes beneath are absolute perfection and total epic bliss. “Realm of Sacrifice” drives home the Wolves aesthetic with full and beautiful force, the spellbinding melodic assault like a flock of birds whirling around one’s head at unnatural speed.

What Vanum are doing is nothing new, but it is masterfully and exquisitely rendered. It is said that one can have too much of a good thing, but I cannot foresee tiring of this style of black metal. When it’s this good, it’s timeless.

Revel in the obsidian glory here: https://profoundlorerecords.bandcamp.com/album/realm-of-sacrifice

Mgła are one of the most consistent bands in black metal. They deliver album after album of riveting, hypnotic music with total conviction, and their latest is no different. Every track contains one or more stirring, epic melodies that are nothing less than inspirational calls to battle for the metal brotherhood.

As is always the cryptic way of these eccentric black wizards, the tracks are not given titles, only roman numerals: I-VI in this case. This tactic further reinforces the sense of the album being a journey, rather than individual steps. And within that journey lie wondrous and spellbinding sounds. Moreso even than the powerful melodies themselves, the real potency of this music lies in the fact that Mgła are masters of utilizing chord changes to maximum mesmerizing effect. The way they manipulate the melodies, shifting up and down, is riveting. I am always amazed by the emotional force they conjure, a force that stirs feeling deep within.

Part I is somewhat demure at first, barely hinting at what is to come, slowly building, and then -- at 3:23 -- a brief stop followed by the marvelous unleashing of the soul of Mgła I know and love. Melody, rhythm and atmosphere coalesce into an unbridled storm of rapture. From there on out it never recedes for long, every part bringing some new combination of wicked melodies and chords that captivate and offer a vast, lovely void in which to lose oneself. Of special note is the cascading, Cascadian rush in Part II; the gleaming fury of Part IV, as well as great lyrics and a chorus that reminds me of Primordial; the spiraling, trance-inducing attack of Part V, and the shades of Silent Enigma-era Anathema in Part VI. In fact, Part VI is where the album reaches the peak of glorious melodic fervor, and is wholly transcendent. It is Mgła at their best, unswerving and locked into total blazing magnificence.

Simply put, Mgła are black metal gods and Exercises in Futility is another worthy entry into their pantheon.

Hail black metal supremacy: https://no-solace.bandcamp.com/album/exercises-in-futility-lp-2015

I am a proponent of the “less is more” style of thinking in the music world. Overly complex playing and/or song structures are too often relegated to background noise, too cerebral to convey emotion and frankly sometimes just too much of a damned mess.

Enter False. Upon first listen (okay, way more than the first), this thick slab of crazed black metal is utterly bewildering and leaves the senses reeling. The somewhat hazy and muffled production, akin to Weakling’s Dead as Dreams, only makes it more difficult to dissect the frenzied array of rhythms and melodies crashing down in an avalanche of sonic ice and stone. Another thing that quickly sets this album apart as singularly baffling are the stylistic changes. It’s always black metal, through and through, but the keyboards in opener “Saturnalia” lend a symphonic feel that was all the rage in the mid ‘90s, and made iconic by Emperor’s In the Nightside Eclipse. “The Deluge” follows suit, even going for a Cradle of Filth-like keyboard breakdown at one point; but then things veer back toward Weakling, and quite overtly at that, in the latter part of the track. Closing track “Hedgecraft” contains some powerful melodies that are more aligned with Cascadian black metal, and by its conclusion takes on a post-black metal vibe akin to Deafheaven or Bosse-de-Nage. Simply put, the material keeps you on your toes, never quite certain what’s coming next.

The dizzying speed at which these songs are sometimes executed is almost beyond belief. Sections threaten to dissolve into a blinding blur, yet are somehow always kept in check. False wrench order from the clutches of their own chaos. Their technical execution is an achievement unto itself; their ability to stop and start on a dime, and navigate their own hairpin curves at maximum velocity, is staggering.

Certainly Untitled is not without its more accessible charms. But by and large, False feel revolutionary. On the surface this material is not what I would call experimental black metal, yet it does possess some demonic and otherworldly life of its own that stands unique in the scene. This is a record where I feel like every listen is a plunge into a dark pool, some bottomless abyss that cannot possibly be fully comprehended, cannot possibly be mapped. In spite of that, or maybe because of it, the pleasure and sheer wonder it imparts seem to have no limit.

Get your mind warped here: https://gileadmedia.bandcamp.com/album/untitled-2015

Another heretofore unknown artist to me, Ms. Wolfe has me wondering where she’s been all my life. Vocally she is often a dead ringer for PJ Harvey, and therefore gets a huge check mark in the plus column right away. Musically she is backed by what could be called industrial/electronica, which sometimes resembles the bass-heavy grinding of Author & Punisher, though drums, bass and guitar are somehow still the conventional instruments driving these tracks. In fact, initial track “Carrion Flowers” sounds so much like A&P that I would have guessed a collaboration with that artist was behind it. In addition to being the album’s first track, it was the first song I heard from the release before listening to it in its entirety. I found it gimmicky then, and though I find it less so now, it is but a pale indication of what follows.

Abyss is a dark album -- incredibly so, and it grows darker with each step. Where “Carrion Flowers” is dark in a conventional way, second track “Iron Moon” is where it becomes clear that Abyss is something special. Chelsea gets her PJ on big time here, with an evocative chorus full of longing. “Dragged Out” achieves weight and punch more successfully than “Carrion Flowers” through a pulsing drone and the sound of an ominous tolling bell. “Maw” is pure PJ, perhaps more than any other track here. “Grey Days” is a highlight, Wolfe sounding positively ethereal and ghostly on the vocal while backed by viola, to chilling effect. “After the Fall” sounds like Depeche Mode gone psychotic, throbbing and burning with a pervasive darkness bordering on violence, and “Crazy Love” drops all pretense of heaviness and achieves a stark power with just acoustic guitar, keys, and viola.

As disturbing and dismal as the songs have typically been to this point, the triple threat of tracks 8-10 are like an emotional atom bomb. The apocalyptic collapse begins with “Simple Death,” a plodding, fragile tune with gut-wrenching lyrics of loss and hopelessness. If you’ve ever felt helpless and abandoned in a remorseless world, this is your terrifying soundtrack. “Survive” channels PJ Harvey again, in the best possible way, with a beautiful but unnerving darkness that hints at something even more sinister beneath the surface of its shimmering black waters. Near the end it steps up the tempo to an insistent, thudding pace then suddenly dissolves in a wash of buzz and distortion. These tracks leave one ill at ease, nervous prey for the sucking void that is “Color of Blood.” Smothered under what sounds like a monolithic keyboard drone, but what must be bass or guitar since only those are credited, Wolfe sounds muffled and strange as if singing through a mouthful of cotton balls. Far more interesting, though (and by interesting I mean FUCKING CREEPY), is that she sounds like she’s being shadowed and echoed by a male voice in tandem with hers. It’s as if the recording captured some paranormal activity, the pining and yearning of some damned soul in the darkness, pleading for escape and release from purgatorial misery. It is enormously discomforting and makes my skin crawl, which of course means I absolutely adore it.

“The Abyss” rounds out this macabre journey with piano tinkling that is intentionally off-key. The effect aligns well with the distressing quality of the rest of the album, but the song falls just on the side of quirky instead of truly menacing. Still, the damage has been more than done already. Once Abyss gets its hooks into you, it is impossible to listen to it without being left stricken and stunned at its gargantuan, seething gloom. Chelsea Wolfe may be the new master of the morose.

Worship at the altar of the dark queen, if you dare: https://chelseawolfe.bandcamp.com/album/abyss

Psychedelic rock can certainly find favor with me, but I don’t think it’s ever struck a chord quite as deeply as the chaps in Early Mammal do. From the fade-in of instrumental “The Great German” to the fade-out of that same song reprised as “GG Return & Out,” and everything in between, this is one gloriously thick pan of magic brownies.

This album demands maximum tolerable volume and begs to redefine what “tolerable” means in that context. The guitar is deliciously fat and fuzzy, blanketing the eardrums as “Inside” trudges somewhere north of a plod but well south of a mid tempo. “Morning” seductively sidles up to your consciousness, and bears no small resemblance to Dead Meadow, and the very best Dead Meadow at that. The chorus is punctuated with big exclamation points of crushing low end that you quickly begin to crave, anticipating their next appearance. Near the end of the track some Doors-like keys come flooding in and light up the groove with shimmering radiance.

“Sigh On,” however, may well be the album highlight. Again nodding to a Dead Meadow vibe, this song is moody, melancholy bliss carried on a rumbling bass line that’ll vibrate the speakers off the shelves. Rob Herian’s voice is high, warbly and emotional, and could not be more perfectly suited to the gray and beautiful atmosphere. After this delightful departure, the heaviness that returns on “Glad is Night” seems all the more colossal. The riffs are blown out, crumbling at the edges, and heaving like the breath of some ancient beast long slumbering but starting to awaken. As if to signal an epic mindfuck of a journey, the song goes on at the same pace, repeating those riffs while spacey freeform guitar melodies are played over the top, for a full seven minutes before the first vocals enter. It ends shortly thereafter, but it could have gone on for 20 minutes and I’d have loved every second of it.

After the brief interlude of “Sak Bacle,” the album delivers what is another highlight for me: a track called “Magic, Art & Bells,” which is nothing more than a voice explaining “the way art uses and controls magical thinking” and how “...art is our equivalent in civilized countries for magical spells.” I haven’t been able to determine who this person is, but the message resonates with me, as does his repeated quote from Doctor Faustus: “A sound magician is a mighty god.” Perhaps this is the band being a little self-indulgent, but it all rings so true, embedded in this legitimately magical soundscape. The final proper track is “The Good,” oozing over with bluesy chops and using the same tactic as “Morning,” periodically dropping in some shuddering deep chords.

I’ve never been a big fan of the term “stoner rock” because I’ve never been a stoner, but it sure seems to me like Take a Lover is just about the ideal soundtrack to getting baked. 4:20, y’all.

Get stoned here: https://riotseasonrecords.bandcamp.com/album/take-a-lover

I was late to the party on Royal Thunder, discovering them in 2013 only after running into their 2012 album CVI on some site’s list of the year’s best albums. Listening to the sample track linked to that article, I could immediately see why someone would hail that record as listworthy. Heavy, moody, blues-laden rock with an amazing female vocalist over the top -- what’s not to like?

Fast-forward two years and that female vocalist, Mlny Parsonz, has gone from amazing to sublime. In interviews I’ve read, she is humble and underestimates her talent as so many great artists do, but everytime I hear her voice on this album it reignites total awe in me. Thing is, while Mel has grown about ten times stronger, the band actually grew lighter in sound. CVI was never metal, but it could be heavy and was often quite dark. When “Time Machine” opens Crooked Doors, on the other hand, is it disarmingly (even alarmingly) poppy. So much so, in fact, that it threw me for a serious loop and left me very perplexed about this album overall. I really wasn’t sure what to make of it, but I felt there was some mystery to be unlocked so I persisted. When the veil was finally drawn aside, I realized the rewards here are virtually endless.

“Time Machine” is a great song with a rollicking chorus, but “Forget You” is where the disc first really sinks in its teeth. Parsonz is an electrifying force here, her tone seething with emotion, particularly on the line “You better run for your life.” Much of this album’s lyrical content was based on Mlny’s, and then-husband and guitarist Josh Weaver’s, time spent in a Christian cult. They escaped it, but the profound effect it had on her is palpable, and supercharges these songs with tension and grit. “Floor” is one such song, and one of my absolute favorites, storming forward with the fastest pace of any track and brimming with energy. It is quickly matched by “The Line,” which has the most amped-up and riveting chorus of the whole record. While Parsonz is a vocal giant throughout the entire album, she is nothing short of a wrecking ball here, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand up everytime I hear this track.

Even after Crooked Doors began to draw me in, it kept a few surprises in check. “Glow” is a song that didn’t stick at first, seemingly passing without notice, but in time I realized just how excellent it is. That’s mainly due to its final moments where once again Mel is the star, belting out the lyrics with a crazy level of intensity. And then I struggled for a time with the final three tracks: “One Day,” “The Bear I,” and “The Bear II.” That was largely because, as much as this record shows a musically kinder, gentler Royal Thunder, these songs take an even broader step in that direction. “One Day,” while seemingly light in tone, ends up being one of the best showcases of all for Parsonz’ remarkable voice. By the end she is so wound up that her passion is shooting out of the speakers like lightning bolts, threatening to boil your brain. “The Bear I” is even more of a departure, a straight-up blues ballad that provides a different forum in which she shines again. “The Bear II” is marked by tinkling piano and cello, a quiet song much aligned with material from Antony and the Johnsons. In this setting, Parsonz almost sounds like an entirely different singer, but she is equally stunning. It is an unexpected end to this profound album, yet in time it proves to be a fitting one.

I was fortunate to see the band live in June, and they were incredible. Clad simply in black leather pants and a white button-down shirt with rolled sleeves, her black hair hanging in her face and a sheen of sweat glistening on her forearms, Parsonz was a certifiable rock goddess. There are plenty of female-fronted hard rock and metal bands, and some great ones at that, but Mlny goes unmatched in terms of pure vocal sincerity. Crooked Doors would be nowhere near the same without her.

Enter the doorway: https://royalthunder.bandcamp.com/album/crooked-doors-deluxe-version

For an album titled The Unspeakable, it is only fitting that it begins with nearly two minutes of little more than spooky whispers and a slowly building drum beat. And this first portion of “All He Has Read” represents less than one-sixth of the entire track. Yes, the opening track is going on 13 minutes long. That takes balls.

Okay, plenty of the artists I listen to write long songs. Hell, there are several albums on this list alone that fit that bill. But Year of the Goat practice a pretty digestible style that I like to call occult rock. There’s no shortage of it these days, maybe driven by a love for all things retro, maybe due to who knows what. YOTG’s influences are very distinctly ‘80s pop, new wave and goth. As a child of the ‘80s I carry a deep love for much of the pop music of that era. I suppose that’s always the way with the music that surrounds you in your formative years. Starting the album with a sprawling epic is a bold move for this genre, but one that I appreciate, and an indicator of ambitious fearlessness. Either that or they just don’t give a shit, and I appreciate that too.

A portion of what I listen to would certainly be considered “weird” by some, but The Unspeakable’s appeal is greatest in that most conventional of things: the chorus. This band write the most insanely catchy, compelling choruses I have heard in years. “Pillars of the South” quickly burrows into your brain’s pleasure center and rocks out there, the groove utterly irresistible. “Vermin” is even more crazily addictive, a song of which I cannot get enough no matter how many times I hear it. There’s somewhat of a Thin Lizzy vibe here as it blazes unfettered into the rock stratosphere. When it hits the bridge to the chorus, it drops into an uncanny copy of the epic guitar line from Bryan Adams’ iconic “Run to You.” And oh man, that chorus is sheer goddamned perfection. But this isn’t your average radio-friendly fodder; the lyrics are firmly grounded in the unsavory and unsettling:

I feel -- eyes stare at me
I’m crying -- out for mercy
I hear them -- screaming in anguish
From under the floorboards and up through my spine

The first part of each line is sung as background vocals, with the second sung up front and slightly overlapping the first. Again, here’s a conventional tactic that we’ve all heard in a hundred pop songs, but it works brilliantly.

“Vermin” is the fourth track, and by this point the record is locked in and absolutely unstoppable. “World of Wonders” again has a chorus to die for, almost incomprehensibly catchy and fully capable of getting lodged in your head for eternity. “The Wind” summons the best of The Sisters of Mercy, with the bass lines such a close match to that seminal goth band that you’d think they themselves came into the studio to lay them down in a guest session. YOTG even employed the little vocal echo at the end of one line, a classic signature of ‘80s goth. And yes, the chorus is pure gold. “Black Sunlight” and “The Sermon” are great, the former containing some Spanish guitar flourishes and the latter a driving rocker, but penultimate track “The Key and the Gate” came to grow on me immensely. Year of the Goat are Swedish, but the chorus curiously repeats the song’s title in Italian -- “La chiave, la chiave, e la porta” -- and of course is deliciously appealing. Here again YOTG assert their occult tendencies. “The Key and the Gate” is a reference to Yog-Sothoth, a Lovecraftian deity of the Cthulhu Mythos. Let’s see Bryan Adams write about that.

And finally we have the track that first turned me on to this band (thank you, Radio Fenriz): the epic “Riders of Vultures.” Maybe the most metal track on the entire album, it features big, radiant guitar chords soaring over the top of doomy riffs, and sounds huge. It culminates in a chanting choir ominously singing in a minor key, then growing urgent in Carmina Burana-like style, signaling The End Times. But it’s only the end of this glorious album, and you can start it all over again! And you will, again and again and again, because you won’t be able to help yourself. With its ability to be almost unnaturally catchy while maintaining its dark occult roots, I’ve never heard anything quite like The Unspeakable.

Get to know the Goat: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9aPvquODxA

The method by which I arrive at a deep love for certain albums is interesting to me. Often it requires time and a slow uncovering of brilliance lurking beneath the surface, merely hinted at by a hook or intriguing song here and there. Rarely, the unadulterated genius of something bursts through upon first listen and the tide of it never recedes, and only becomes more familiar. And then there are records which are instantly appealing, but suddenly deliver a breakthrough moment after a few listens where they ascend to an entirely new level. So it was with Henry Blacker.

In the interest of full disclosure I must note that this release is not entirely from 2015. The CD edition combines seven tracks from Summer Tombs which is truly from 2015 and eight tracks from Hungry Dogs Will Eat Dirty Puddings from 2014. But since there is genuinely new material here and the compilation is newly released, it qualifies. Plus it's simply too goddamned good to not have been considered for this list. So there.

Now when I first heard this album online, I freaked out because it sounded like classic Queens of the Stone Age, but dirtier and rougher around the edges. And that’s essentially what it is, but that’s also a grand oversimplification. Like all albums that remind you of another artist but prove their originality, it’s only a matter of time before you almost entirely stop hearing that other artist.

I guess it’s fair to call Henry Blacker “stoner rock.” Certainly there is a thick crust of fantastic fuzz around the guitars, but the fiery urgency of several of these songs lean toward more of a punk aesthetic. Take the bouncing, furious “Landlubber,” which clubs and smashes its way forward with furious punk riffs, or “Shit Magus” which has all the rhythmic subtlety of an AK-47. But then you have “Million Acre Fire,” “The Grain,” and “A Plague” which gravitate toward a middle tempo while piling on the fat, shuddering riffs. Either way, there is not a single track here which doesn’t rock my ass senseless. And while that counts for a lot, a number one album it does not make. The real ace in the hole of Summer Tombs is the supremely amazing vocal delivery of Mr. Tim Farthing.

When “Cold Laking” opens the record (with a damned fine QOTSA-sounding riff, I must say), Farthing’s vocals are low and sort of weirdly loungey. And yes, they do resemble Josh Homme of QOTSA to a certain extent. But as the track pounds toward the finishing line, Farthing becomes a man possessed, suddenly bursting into a ragged, acid-flecked howl. There also seems to be some kind of vocal effect at work here (and if there isn’t, the result is doubly freaky) that layers on the demonic possession character -- guttural and vicious and seriously unhinged. And it is magnificent.

As “Million Acre Fire” slams to a close, it sounds like a chorus of demons cursing. When Farthing seethes “Daaaamn…you got a shit magus!” in -- you guessed it -- “Shit Magus,” it sounds like he’s foaming at the fucking mouth. But nothing compares to the title track, a singularly monumental song that is my favorite of the entire bunch. “Summer Tombs” is about a husband and father finding out he has cancer. “That’s how it starts,” he deadpans, “in the small of the back. First an ache, then a lingering burn.” The song is immensely heavy, a grinding, churning mass that conveys the weight of the subject matter. And when it gets to the devastating pre-chorus -- “What will we tell the kids? I haven’t the strength for this.” -- that demon-taunting-the-exorcist voice comes roaring out in full force, the thick sludge of it coating the walls of your ears and slowly dripping down. That vocal so conveys the grim desperation and helplessness of the situation, that it is as crushing as the massive guitar riffs around it. “Summer tombs, I thought we had more time” goes the chorus, the stunning realization being vividly brought forward to the listener in a personal way most music just cannot deliver. And on a higher level, there is something about this incredible song that sounds like summer. It somehow bridges the grimness of the hottest summer days with the grimness of terminal disease. Maybe the suffocating riffs simulate the suffocating humidity of summer in some places (now I’m the one being personal); maybe Henry Blacker are total songwriting geniuses; or maybe it was all a perfect accident, but this song is simply sublime.

As for the Hungry Dogs… portion, every track is a winner for one reason or another, but several deserve special mention. “Your Birthday Has Come & Gone” is a brilliant portrayal of a senile or Alzheimer’s victim, or maybe just someone trapped in mental lethargy by drugs purported to help. It’s monstrously heavy, the buzzing, vibrating riffs threatening to dive to subsonic levels. “My Majesty” rocks like a total beast and features my favorite vocal line of all: “The wrecks in my wake, are not my concern, nor the ones that I break, against the mighty jut of MY PROW!!!” The line’s potency is all but lost here in text, but hearing it will make you clench your fists as a gleam of mania creeps into your eyes. “Scumblood” actually didn’t grab me at first, and then one day I realized just how genuinely great it is. Another high-intensity song fueled by a punk vibe, it burns hot and fast in less than three minutes, but tears apart everything around it. “Pearlie” highlights the demonically possessed vocal again, this time to the greatest extent yet by apparently slowing it down several notches as if playing vinyl on the wrong speed. This song is both amusing and disturbing, a gigantic orb of sludge coating the sonic landscape as it lurches forward. And finally there is the brilliant “Temple Controls,” with hilarious lyrics about getting older, while the fuzz-drenched riffs burn holes through your speakers and leave them in ashes.

On the surface, Summer Tombs/Hungry Dogs… seems like a curious choice for the top album of the year, but it is a wealth of rock ‘n’ roll greatness that delivers more than you ever think it will. It took a while to click with me, but once it did I gleefully spun it countless times. When I looked back over the year’s releases for the reigning champ, it didn’t take much to realize that it was standing there above all others, screaming at me with the lungs of Beelzebub himself, and I was all too happy to oblige.

Embrace the brilliant madness here: https://riotseasonrecords.bandcamp.com/album/summer-tombs