Posts Tagged ‘Heavy’

New Heavy Sounds – 30th May 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

One of the strongest cases in favour of attending shows at local grassroots venues is that a punt may reward by striking pure gold with the discovery of a band that absolutely blows you away. It may be rare, but when it happens… POW! And so it was that a few months ago, I witnessed Glasgow’s Cwfen’s first live performance south of the border in the middle of the lineup for a £6 midweek gig at my local 150-capacity venue. Even before I learned that they were signed to New Heavy Sounds – a label which consistently delivers on the promise of its name, in finding bands which are heavy, but offer something new, something different, and have homed so many outstanding acts through the years – and had some much bigger shows lined up, it was clear that this was a band of rare talent, and who wouldn’t be playing 150-capacity venues for long. On stage, they had that quality that you only know when you see it. And they had songs.

And here they are, recorded in the studio, on their debut album, Sorrows. The huge, riff-driven epics are interspersed with brief incidental instrumental pieces, appropriately entitled ‘Fragment’ and numbered sequentially. The first provides a soft intro before ‘Bodies’ blasts in with seven minutes of supreme chuggage. It’s a gritty hard rock behemoth, but it’s more than just another monolithic riff monster: there’s a shade of goth sensibility about it, not least of all in Agnes’ brooding vocal, but there’s also the brittle-edged lead guitar work, and the song brings a powerful sense of drama and theatricality, building to a rabid, demonic climax… and straight away, it’s apparent that this is something special.

Cwfen have a supreme grasp of dynamics, of mood, of atmosphere, and Sorrows has all of these in spades. Single cut ‘Wolfsbane’ grinds in, meshing together gothy lead guitar, rich with chorus, and reverb-laden vocals which are simultaneously haunting and commanding, while a thunderous bass nails things down tight at the bottom end. Next up is ‘Reliks’, released as their debut single, and it’s different again, an atmospheric mid-tempo song which soars, managing to incorporate elements of classic 80s rock and shoegaze, while at the same time bringing the atmosphere of Fields of the Nephilim. Nothing’s overdone, and nothing’s underdone, either: everything fuses together in perfect balance, while ‘Whispers’ melds 70s rock vibes with a hard rock, delivered with a hint of anthemic power ballad. And in the background, raw banshee screams fill the swell of sound towards the end with pure emotional release. ‘Penance’ brings the weight with thunderous drums, squalling feedback, and a crushing riff behind a demonic howl of a vocal, which switches to achingly magnificent melody for the chorus. ‘Embers’, meanwhile, makes for a megalithic monster of a tune, delivering seven minutes of crushing riffery and standing as the heaviest and maybe one of the most overtly ‘metal’ song in the album – although full-force closer ‘Rite’ plunges deeper into darkness, a blackened anthem by way of a finale to a superlative set.

On Sorrows, Cwfen deliver on their name: magical, mystical, menacing, haunting, dark… but they bring so much more, and certainly do not belong in any given pigeonhole. While this is indisputably a ‘heavy’ album, it’s accessible – without going pop or being overly polished. It’s an album which makes a high-impact first impression, but reveals more depths and layers with subsequent listens. Sorrows is a masterful work, which ventures far and wide in its musical inspirations and touchstones, meaning it’s never samey, never predictable, but at the same time, Cwfen demonstrate an intense focus, forging a sound which is distinctive, rather than derivative. A rare gem, and a standout of 2025 so far.

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9th May 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Sometimes, when a band has forged its sound with the assistance of quality producers, there’s a niggle of concern when they decide to go it alone. Why are they doing this? Why now? Have they become overconfident in their abilities?

Eva Sheldrake explains the decision: “We’ve worked with incredible producers, and we’ve taken so much from every experience, but with Get With Me, it all came together so naturally that we knew Jude had to produce it. We caught lightning in a bottle—the energy is real, it’s raw, and it’s straight from the heart. The song channels something a lot of women go through but don’t always get the space to talk about. Instead of letting it fester, we flipped it on its head and made it ours. It’s fierce, it’s defiant, and it’s exactly what Eville stands for.”

The fact that it was simply something that happened, that felt right, matters, and that’s significant. More significant, though, is the fact that there was simply no cause for concern, as they’ve absolutely mastered the sound they’re after here. The track dives in with the fattest, filthiest bass grind, and then the guitar is a dense wall of distortion, and then Eva’s vocals are sassy but keenly melodic, and there are layers of harmony in the mix and once again, they’ve mined solid gold. Balancing crunching juggernaut grungy / nu-metal riffery – something about both the sound and structure of the musical elements are reminiscent of Filter here – with a pop sensibility which comes through in the vocals, ‘Get With Me’ has got the lot.

And if the title suggests some kind of schmaltzy romantic allure, think again. This is Eville, and they are not to be fucked with. The mid-section brings all the grunt and threatening fists like a menacing bodyguard looming forward, before the full-throttle finish. The message of ‘Get With Me’ is really ‘get real’ – and it’s driven home hard , with brutal force. Yep, Eville have done it again….

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San Francisco punk rock band M.U.T.T. has unleashed their blistering new single ‘Runnin’ with the Devil’ a snarling anthem about embracing sin, seizing chaos, and stepping into the Devil’s shoes to rule the underworld. And the band isn’t stopping there. M.U.T.T. has also announced their brand-new LP, Toughest Street In Town, dropping June 20 via Quiet Panic Records.

The new album is a love letter to the band’s gritty San Francisco neighborhood—a place many outsiders fear, but where M.U.T.T. finds their strength.

Frontman John Jr.  says, “I don’t fear my neighborhood, I am inspired by it. I find myself thriving in the mayhem. I walk around the blocks at night ’cause I know I can take care of myself. You gotta have a tough presence and a tough mind in order to survive in this part of the city. Some of you couldn’t last a week on my street. Maybe that’s why I love it so much.”

‘Runnin’ with the Devil’ captures that raw energy and streetwise perspective in full force. As No Echo puts it, the song sounds “like Appetite-era Guns N’ Roses trying to channel the Circle Jerks”—a perfect storm of sleazy glam rock swagger and unfiltered punk attitude. It’s rock ‘n’ roll that doesn’t compromise your punk cred.

Formed from the remains of the critically acclaimed band Culture Abuse, M.U.T.T. includes John Jr., Matt Walker, Isa Anderson, and Shane Plitt—four ex-touring punks with empty pockets and no plans to slow down. Their debut LP Bad To The Bone made noise across underground circles and was praised for its unrelenting, four-chord punk anthems and gritty authenticity.

With Toughest Street In Town, M.U.T.T. continues their journey—hardened, loud, and fiercely loyal to the place that raised them.

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Portuguese heavy sludge hitters Vaneno have just dropped the official video for ‘Sludgehammer’, the crushing second single from their forthcoming album Chaos, Hostility, Murder, due out May 26 on Raging Planet Records.

Shot in black and white, ‘Sludgehammer’ embodies everything Vaneno stands for: heavy, unrelenting riffs, cavernous grooves, and a primal energy that feels like it could destroy entire brick walls. The track delivers a punishing blend of sludge, stoner, and death metal, the kind of sound that grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go.

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Suicide Records – 30th April 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Blammo! With Absolutely Launched, Demonic Death Judge slam straight in with the juggernaut riffage: ‘90s Violence’ is full-throttle, in-yer-face, no pissing about, thick guitars welded to a ball-busting rhythm section where the drums absolutely pound and the bass is lurking darkly, filling out that low-end with a heavy throb, while the vocals are a full-throated roar. Drawing together the extravagance of 70s heavy rock and the raging rawness of grunge, Demonic Death Judge land firmly in the territory of 00s racketmongering guitar slingers like Pulled Apart By Horses.

The six-minute ‘You’ve Got Red on You’ chugs and lurches along with all the grain and heft and would be just another heavy stoner cut taking its cues from Les Zeppelin and Black Sabbath were it not for the ravaged, gargling gasolene vocal, which is raw, incendiary. And on Absolutely Launched, they just keep on blasting out the meatiest, most monster riffs with no let-up. Any slower, less-up-front segments, such as the mid-sections of ‘You’ve Got Red on You’ and ‘Goner’, the latter of which chimes nicely, are simply brief breathers where they reload and come back, all guns blazing, twice as hard. They do chill things out on the mellow blues of ‘I Realise That… Now’, and it presents a switch in the emotional tone, too, hinting at a more reflective, contemplative side to the band which stands in contrast to the rest of the album, which is anything but reflective or contemplative, and instead rages all the way, breathing fire with every chord struck – and those chords are struck hard and at maximum volume.

Absolutely Launched is a magnificent exercise in spectacular excess, and it’s truly glorious. If you’re going to go big and hefty, and utterly ballistic, there can be no half-measures. Everything is overloading, cranked up to eleven. There aren’t many solos, instead favouring the monster riff as the dominant feature, but when the solos land, they’re epic, and wild. ‘Dead Dogs’ simply tears. ‘Spliffhanger’ roars in a raw-throated forest fire of a relentless rager, while the seven-minute title track which wraps the album is monumental in its punishment.

The easy blues rock touches which occasionally grace the compositions hint at accessibility and a more overt musicality, but more than anything, Absolutely Launched is all the revs, foot to the floor riffery, and it’s a behemoth of an album.

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Romanian atmospheric post-black metal visionaries Genune return with their third full-length album, Infinite Presence, set to be released on May 17 via Consouling Sounds.
The album will be available on black vinyl, cool blue vinyl, CD, and digital formats, and marks a profound artistic leap — one born from radiant hope and deep absence.

Ahead of the album, they’ve revealed ‘The Sun Will Always Shine’. Hear it here:

Formed in 2012, Genune found their true voice with the 2018 debut Cern Sol, building a unique sonic identity that fuses the intensity of post-black metal with elements of shoegaze, electronica, Americana, and Anatolian rock. Their music is captivating and richly textured, moving between moments of fierce intensity and delicate introspection.

Lyrically, the band continues to explore themes of time, consciousness, identity, and existence, told through a poetic, modernist lens. Their 2021 album Inert & Unerring focused on the intricacies of identity — a theme expanded and transformed on Infinite Presence.

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18th April 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Eric Quach has been making music – or perhaps more accurately sculpting sound on the fringes of music – as thisquietarmy for over twenty years, amassing a substantial body of work as a solo artist, with an expanded band lineup, and with various collaborations, the most recent being Cîme, his second with Tom Malmendier

We learn that Langue Hybride was written and arranged in less than 4 weeks during thisquietarmy’s music residency at Centre d’Expérimentation Musical (CEM) in the region of Saguenay—Lac-St-Jean, Québec.

The album consists of five longform tracks, which range from seven and a half to sixteen minutes in duration. It’s the shortest work, ‘Les Rayons Cosmiques’ which lifts the curtain the album, with droning, dolorous strings and distant, delicate percussion conjuring evocative atmospherics, coloured with both a simmering tension and an underlying sense of sadness, which, while hard to define, is palpable. Around the midpoint, that distant percussion builds to stand front and centre and a groove emergers, suddenly and unexpectedly, and the whole feel changes towards something that’s a cinematic hybrid of folk and space rock.

‘Respirer l’instabilité’ crashes into altogether darker territory, a gloomy, doomy trudge of slow, deliberate drumming and a low, grinding bass, over which discordant sonic mayhem plays out. After a lull of calm around the mid-point, a pulsating rhythm merges, and things evolve into a strolling wig-out with some strong jazz-funk leanings and already, a pattern is beginning to emerge in terms of compositional structure, in that around halfway, the trajectory shifts, and the piece ends in a completely different place from the one in which it started.

This is confirmed by the pivot which takes place around five minutes into the third track. Reminiscent of latter-day Swans, ‘Les radicaux libres’ is woozy and weird, expansive and haunting, and begins to pick up pace and volume six minutes in, building to a bursting sustained crescendo that’s both hypnotic and tense, and if ‘Organismes en aérobiose’ starts out soothing, the sound of dappled sun through leaves on a summer’s day, it transitions to a fist-waving stomper and concludes as a skyward-facing surge of sonic exultation, via the detour of a post-rock tidal wave, while fifteen-minute closer ‘Solastalgie impalpable’ rides a wave of thick riffage and strings reminiscent of the long play-out on ‘Layla’ – only this is arguably more successful, as it always felt like an epic and overlong anti-climax in the wake of that guitar-line. True to form, ‘Solastalgie impalpable’ does make a shift, tapering into some elongated swirling drones which reverberate and rattle the ribs and taunt the senses, before suddenly bursting into life with a driving rock riff by way of a climactic finale.

Langue Hybride is a wild ride, and while claims for acts producing ‘genre-defying’ works are not just tedious and predictable but usually completely spurious, there’s no neat way of categorising this schizophrenic hybrid, where each track is a work of two halves, presenting almost oppositional styles and characteristics .But this stylistic polarity makes for exciting – if challenging – listening: given that the only thing that’s predictable is that each piece will fly in a different direction at some point, there’s no way one could call this album predictable. The vision – and its execution – are superb, and with Langue Hybride, thisquietarmy offer something which is quite different, and rather special.

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8th April 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s both an understatement and perhaps a needlessly obvious thing to remark that there is an overwhelming amount of new music around right now. And so it’s aggravating, not to mention disappointing, to hear people of a certain age – and I’m talking the over 35s here, but it becomes considerably more pronounced as the demographic slides up the scale – bemoaning that there’s no decent music being released anymore. No, that is not the problem. In fact, it’s simply not true, on any level. The problem is that there is so much new music that, depending on your tastes and preferences, finding the wheat among the chaff can be like finding a needle in a haystack, if we’re going to push some cliches. The cliches are relevant, because even among the ‘good’ music, stylistically, at least, a lot of what’s out there is a rehashing of other stuff, and finding anything that feels new or different is rare.

Bellhead are doing something different. Sure, there are elements of post-punk, goth, noise-rock, but there’s nothing ‘template’ or ‘by numbers’ on display here. The fact they don’t have a conventional musical lineup is a key factor, of course: two basses, a drum machine, and no guitar.

The title track is sparse at first, there’s reverb lead bass played high on the neck ringing out and taking the job of a lead guitar, over a grimy, low-slung low-end bass, with some menacing, distorted vocals snarling low and dark. It’s more atmospheric than industrial, at least in the verses – twisty, grindy, reminiscent of PIG with its breaking out into a roaring anthemic chorus – but that chorus sounds like UK goth circa ’86 when it collided with hard rock. It’s huge, it’s hooky, and it’s strong.

‘Heart Shaped Hole’ is hard and heavy, aggressive but with some well-conceived texture and a production that brings everything to the fore simultaneously, amplifying the intensity. The sound is dense, and having bemoaned how a few bands have suffered from their drum machines being too low in the mix during live performances of late, Bellhead utilize theirs to full effect, pitching the beats well up in the mix. It smacks you right in the face and lends the songs an essential muscularity, providing a relentless driving force to which the bass welds itself. The rhythm section is the pulsating heart of any band: with Bellhead, with everything being the rhythm section, more or less, the pulsations aren’t just strong – this is a relentless blast of bass and beats. And there is not much let-up, either. ‘Shutters + Stutters’ is gritty and dark but with a serrated pop edge.

The piano intro to ‘No Dead Horses’ is something of a false lull, because it soon twists and snarls and sneers, emanating menace and sleaze while crunching overdrive grinds over a loping rhythm.

The brace of remixes tacked into the end may be nice bonuses on one hand, but feel perhaps superfluous on the other, with a Stabbing Westward remix of ‘Bad Taste’ from their previous release, and a remix of ‘Heart Shaped Hole’ wrapping it up. The remixes are solid, the former being a super-high-octane dancefloor stomping smasher. But the EP’s five tracks alone are an outstanding document that feels complete in itself., balancing fire and force and heavy atmosphere. But from whatever angle you view it, Threats is all killer, and finds Bellhead taking things to another level.

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Exile On Mainstream – 21st March 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Noisepicker get a pass for a rather lame name by virtue of being absolutely phenomenal purveyors of noise rock, and that they are absolutely phenomenal purveyors of noise rock is a fact, not an opinion.

It’s also a fact that the album’s title, The Earth Will Swallow The Sun, is factually inaccurate. But again, they get a pass, not least of all because without Earth, there would be no Sunn O))) and the whole world of drone metal was born from Earth and the sun, or at least Sunn O))) revolve around that… but I digress. The Earth Will Swallow The Sun marks the return of Noisepicker after a seven-year break following the release of their debut, Peace Off, in 2018, because… life, apparently. This seems to be how it goes. Stuff happens, you get busy dealing with it, and simply doing everyday stuff, like laundry and life admin, and before you know it, shit, five years have evaporated, and that’s half a decade.

‘Do not expect neat, polished, note perfect, carefully constructed sound. Noisepicker are loud and abrasive. They pay homage to the genres which made them fall in love with music in the first place – doom, punk and blues – and bring it all together in a hearty and heavy concoction that is all their own.’, they forewarn, and yes, it’s all true. The Earth Will Swallow The Sun places texture and impact and density over palatability and accessibility. And that’s for the good: the world is engulfed in slick digital mass-produced music, and there seems to be something of a rebellion against it in underground circles, with artists with nothing to lose going all-out to splurge their souls with unapologetically raw output. And this is something that feels relatable, it’s music to connect with, because it’s real, immediate, direct, and without compromise. To listen to something so unfiltered is to feel alive.

The album starts sparse, with strong hints of Mark Lanegan, with Harry Armstrong delivering a heavy-timbred vocal croon that emanates from the chest and crackles in the throat, over a simple guitar strum and some anguished drones, until finally, almost two minutes in, it all kicks in with some big guitars, thudding drums, booming bass. It’s a hint at the potential energy that Noisepicker offer, and if opening an album with a slow-paced dredger of a song seems like an odd choice, it paves the way for some high-octane, high-impact racket, sliding immediately into the darkly chaotic snarl of raging riff-out roar of single cut ‘Chew’, which lurches and lumbers between grunge and metal and heavy psychedelia.

Things only get more intense from hereon in. ‘Tomorrow Lied the Devil’ is built around a solid blues-based boogie, but with everything cranked up to eleven and Armstrong giving it some gravel-throated grit while the guitars chug hard against thunderous percussion. ‘Leave Me the Name’ sees them coming on like Chris Rea not on the road to hell, but dragged up, charred and rotting from the depths of hell, and ‘What Did You Think Was Going to Happen’ is dense, dark, gnarly, menacing and lands like a punch to the gut. The riff is actually a bit Led Zep, but with so much distortion and a vocal that sounds like a death threat, it all takes on a quite different dimension, while ‘The End of Beginning’ is simply a slow but blistering assault. None of this is pretty, and none of this is gentle. All of it is strong, and rabid in its intensity. ‘Start the Flood’ offers some wild bass runs amidst the raving riff-driven mayhem – because we need for there to be more happening here. There’s some rabid raving about supernovas, and then the title track comes on like some deranged stoner rock blitzkrieg that has hints of Melvins and a megadose of daftness. We need that daftness as much as we need the guitar carnage. There’s a smoochy swagger to the blues / jazz-hued ‘Lorraine in Blood’ that’s like Tom Waits narrating a pulpy crime novel, before ‘Lunatics’ brings the album to a more experimental conclusion with its dominant crowd noise backing.

It’s rare for a side-project to stand above the main band, but Armstrong has his fingers in many pies beyond Orange Goblin, and Noisepicker are a rare entity in every way. The Earth Will Swallow The Sun is something else. It’s the sound of a pair of extremely capable musicians really testing themselves, and having fun in the process. It’s fun to listen to, too. Hard, and harrowing at times and in places, but ultimately fun.

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Klonosphere Records – 7th March 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

What is it about prog bands and Greek mythology and space? Sure, both are inspiring for their expansive and epic qualities, but it does seem to be almost a requirement for prog acts to be quite obsessed about mythology or space – or, in the case of March of Scylla, both. Indeed, Scylla is a man-eating monster which features in Homer’s Odyssey, while the French progressive metal quartet’s debut album’s title may refer to the galaxy, or daughter of Cassiopeia in Greek myth, after which said galaxy was named. I suppose there’s some intertwining there, which works. On the one hand, it’s mystical, it’s deep, and its seriousness manifest.

These guys do bring some ultra-chunky riffs which straddle nu-metal and technical metal, and they alternate these with huge, arena-friendly choruses which are impressive in the anthemic heights they scale, and no, that’s no sarcasm, believe it or not. But it does flop headlong into the template trap which is the curse of so much metal of the twenty-first century – and again, it’s something that emerged and came to prominence with the advent of mu-metal and then seemingly seeped into other strains of metal, alternating full-throated roaring verses with melodic choruses. At first, to my ears, at least, it sounded less dynamic or thrilling, and more like bands trying to please everyone by being everything all at once. And I suppose the formula must work, because a quarter of a century later, they’re still doing it, even though it’s tired and ultra-predictable now. Sure, it’s fundamentally the same form as the quiet / loud structure that defined the grunge sound in the 90s, but the difference is that with the quiet / loud thing, it felt like build-up and release, whereas this is more like splicing two different songs together. It’s Jekyll and Hyde. And a sudden turn works when it’s out of the blue, but when every song is structured around a ball-busting riff and raw-throated guttural vocals which abruptly give way to some big emotive burst of white light you can sing along to, it’s not only predictable, but feels as if one segment undermines the other. Like, c’mon, make up your minds! None of this is to say that I think ‘heavy’ bands should only do ‘heavy’: contrast is a vital element in giving a composition impact, and besides, I would simply never prescribe that music should be one thing or another. My point is that when things become overly formulaic, they risk losing that impact.

So ‘Ulysses’ Lies’ does the raging riff thing alternating with the anthemic chorus thing. I’m not sure if the lyrics are being delivered from the perspective of a protagonist from the canon of Greek mythology, or it it’s simply a framing for some introspective moan about relationships or whatever, and no doubt if I was willing to spend hours straining my ears to decipher it all, I’d find the answer, but I can’t say I’m that invested. It sounds like some introspective moan about relationships or whatever, though. Way to diminish the potency of epic tales of gods battling and whatnot.

‘Death Experience’ stretches out for a fill seven minutes, and if it’s not necessarily a full epic, it’s most certainly an epyllion, and with some tight and detailed guitar-work and a well-executed atmospheric mid-section, it delivers everything it promises, including a sense that the ‘death experience’ is one of a dazzling ascension beyond this plane. And if it seems as if I’m being unreasonably critical of March of Scylla, there’s no questioning their musicianship or capacity for solid compositions. They pack in some megalithic, churning riffs and know exactly how to hit the hammer on intensity, just as they absolutely nail the huge, hooky choruses. But it just feels so studied, and you know how it will go as each song plays out.

‘To Cassiopeia’ is an interlude which combines space and mythology in one processed, predictable but atmospheric piece, before ‘Dark Matter’ goes Metallica’ before it goes You Me At Six… and it’s a sonic identity crisis to my ears, although it’s precisely what they were going for. What to say? It’s wrong to criticise a band for what they’re not, but this is difficult for what it is – namely conflicting and predictable, but perfectly executed. The heavy segments hit hard, and the light, melodics parts are well done but ultimately a bit lame. It’s yin and yang.

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