Posts Tagged ‘Metal’

Jackie-O Motherfucker / Lo Egin / Sour Faced Lil – Wharf Chambers, Leeds, 23rd August 2025

Posted: 24 August 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

It’s good to be back at Wharf Chambers. Personal circumstances have meant that the trip to Leeds has been largely beyond me, but stepping into the place felt like coming home. It’s unassuming, some may even basic, but it’s got a unique – and accommodating – vibe. There aren’t many small independent venues that can keep going by sticking to a programme of leftfield live music, or being explicit in a keen leaning towards inclusivity for LGBTQIA+ and anyone else who stands outside the fence of the normies, but Leeds is a big enough, and diverse enough, city for a place like this to not only survive, but thrive. It’s kinda quirky, a bit shabby chic, and it works: the beers – local – are cheap, the sound in the venue space is good, and it’s all cool, and tonight’s advertised lineup is a cracker. Diverse, but solid quality of an international reach.

Before we come to that, it’s a strange and rare occurrence to arrive at a venue to discover that there is an additional, unadvertised, band on the bill, and even more so when the band in question has effectively gatecrashed the event without prior arrangement with the promoter, but by dint of deception. But the first band on tonight have done just that. Perhaps it’s the only way they can get gigs. Because they sure do suck, and it was obvious that they’d never have been booked for this lineup in a million years. I head back to the bar after a couple of songs, having heard enough. When they’re done, promoter and sound man (in both senses), Theo takes the mic to explain that he hadn’t booked them and that they didn’t espouse the experimental ethos of the acts Heinous Whining exists to promote. The band did not respond well to this, validating the opinion a number of us had already formed, and they fucked off in a huff. Dicks.

Thankfully, normality – of the kind we’re here for – resumed with the arrival of Sour Faced Lil, the solo project of Hilary from Cowtown. Her set starts – somewhat incongruously – with a quirky electropop cover of Bright Eyes. I just about manage not to cry. Then she swerves into swooshing space rock noise galore, and she explores the weird and wibbly, and it’s everything you’d expect from a Heinous Whining night. Live drums, looped, live guitar, and warped, undulating synths create a cacophony of sound in layers. The performance is a little tentative in places, but the audience is behind her all the way. There’s something quite enthralling about seeing a solo artist juggling myriad musical elements and instruments, knowing what a balancing act, how much effort it is to remember everything and keep the flow, and the fact she manages it is impressive.

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Sour Face Lil

Also impressive are Lo Egin, but for quite different reasons. I feel I owe Lo Egin an apology, as it happens. When I reviewed their split release with Beige Palace a little while ago, I misspelled their name as Lo Elgin, more than once (although I managed to get it right when covering Volumancer in 2013) Hammering out reviews on a daily basis means I slip up sometimes. It’s not great, and I do try, to do better but… I did really rate that release, though, and I’ll admit that they were as much a draw for me as the headliners. And the fact is, they were worth the entry fee alone. On paper, they’re perhaps not the easiest sell, bring atmospheric post rock in the vein of early Her Name is Calla, with brass – sax and trombone – crossed with elements of doom – with the addition of screaming black metal vocals. They do epic. They do crescendos. They also do ultra-slow drumming, something I am invariably transfixed by having first become fixated during my first time seeing Earth live. The drummer raised his arms to fill extension above his head, before smashing down with explosive force.

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Lo Egin

Dolorous droning horns create a heavy atmosphere. Then, out of nowhere, from the delicately woven sonic tapestry they’ve been weaving, things turn Sunn O))) and the skinny baggy jeans wearing trombone guy who looks like a young Steve Albini delivers cavernous doomy vocals as he contorts and the mic stand and then all hell breaks loose. When they go heavy, they go heavy – and I mean HEAVY, the drummer smashing every beat so it hits like a nuclear bomb. To arrive with high hopes for a band, and to still be absolutely blown away is a truly wonderful experience, and one that stays with you.

I feel I should perhaps take this opportunity to apologise to Jackie-O Motherfucker, too: in my review of Bloom, I described them as a country band. And while there are without question country elements, they’re really not a country band. They’re not really a psychedelic band, either, or any other one thing. Instead, they’re a hypnotic hybrid, and they’re deceptively loud considering how mellow everything is. What they do is simple in many respects, but in terms of genre, it’s rather more complicated, not readily pigeonholed. I’d clocked them about the venue beforehand, and they seemed like really chilled folks, and while they’re not exactly chatty during their performance, it’s apparent that they’re humble, and simply really chuffed to be playing here. The room is pretty full, too. Tom Greenwood looks like he’s just taken some time out from doing some decorating to play. He’s got paint on his trousers, and is as unassuming as they come.

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Jackie-O Motherfuker

The current lineup consists of three guitars, synth, and some electronic stuff including subtle percussion. No bass, no drums. There are, however, many pedals and much pedal fiddling throughout the set, as they sculpt a wall of reverb and feedback and a whole lot more from this hefty – but ultimately portable – setup.

The resultant sound is detailed, but at the same time a hazy blur. Picked notes – and much of the sound is clean, with next to no distortion, but with all the reverb – bounce off one another here and there, creating ever greater cathedrals of sound. I find myself utterly transfixed. Their hour-and-a-bit long set features just seven songs, and they are completely immersive. There’s no real action to speak of, just an ever-growing shimmer which envelops your entire being. In some respects, their extended instrumental passages invite comparisons to the current incarnations of Swans, only without the evangelically charismatic stage presence or crescendos. In other words, they conjure atmosphere over some extended timeframes, but keep things simmering on a low burner, without any volcanic eruptions. The end result is a performance which is hypnotic, gripping because of, rather than in spite of the absence of drama. Low-key, but loud: absolute gold.

Rún – Rún

Posted: 16 August 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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Rocket Recordings – 22nd August 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

While you wouldn’t exactly call Rún a supergroup, they certainly represent a coming together of disparate artists of no insignificant pedigree, as their biography attests:

Rún comprise firstly Tara Baoth Mooney – sometime Jim Henson voice artist, with a longstanding background in everything from folk and choral music to experimental film-making. Diarmuid MacDiarmada – Nurse With Wound co-conspirator and brother of Lankum’s Cormac, brings with him the experience of avant-garde collaborations with a plethora of artists stretching back over thirty years. Drummer, sound designer and engineer Rian Trench, meanwhile, has worked on everything from the psychedelic IDM of Solar Bears to auto-generative experiments to orchestral arrangements, and owns the studio – The Meadow on Ireland’s East Coast – in which the album was made.

It’s a delicate folksome vocal which floats in on the first composition, ‘Paidir Poball (Pupil)’over what initially sounds like a mechanical wheeze of a bellows, or some form, of life support. The juxtaposition between something so earthy, so human, and something so very much not is compelling, and quite powerful, in a way which isn’t immediately easy to unravel. But a couple of minutes in, a thick, droning guitar – reminiscent of Earth 2, with that thick, sludgy distortion and trebly metal edge – winds its way int the mix and immediately, the mood and the direction changes. And then, on top, choral, almost monastic layers of vocal build and rise upwards to the heavens through the grit and grind and howls of feedback before eventually there is percussion. The drums – thick, thudding, low in the mix, feel as if they’re lagging, foundering in the tide or struggling against a head-facing current.

‘Your Death My Body’ strips things back primarily to percussion, but turns up the intensity with the vocals, which hit a wild intensity which borders on rabid. But with this, and some bleepy computer incursions and a grumbling but groovy bass which makes allusions to Jah Wobble, this album becomes increasingly difficult to place, or to pigeonhole. It’s a sad fact that nowadays, not only will they throw you in jail if you say you’re English, these days (I’m safe as I’m ashamed to pronounce my Englishness, even – or perhaps especially – in Scotland) – but aligning oneself to a genre can be a minefield, too.

The eight-minute ‘Terror Moon’ is a dark morass and a muti-layered, bass-heavy mindfuck that explodes into blistering, shredding electronic overload in the first minute before thumping percussion and the filthiest, fuzziest bass drive in and punch straight in the gut, propelling a psychotic, psychedelic weird-out with tripping space-rock synths and strains of feedback and infinite echo, which leaves you feeling dazed, dizzy. Terror? Yes, just a bit: it’s huge, it’s warped, and a tiny bit overwhelming in its weight and witchiness.

But this is nothing compared to the final track, the ultimate finale, the thirteen-and-a-half minute behemoth that is ‘Caoineadh’. Arriving as it does after a pair of punchy cuts – ‘Such is the Kingdom’ is murky, atmospheric, leaning toward experimental / spoken word, but a mere three an as half minutes on duration, and ‘Strike It’, which is perhaps the album’s most direct composition, evoking Swans circa ’86 but on speed, the grind coming with pace –it takes the album in a whole new trajectory. Gentle, even tentative at first, with nothing but a wandering bassline, it has a slow-burning drone-rock vibe to it as first. But then, the vocals – oh, the vocals! Tara Baoth Mooney brings a lilting folk feel against a slow, droning backdrop, which eventually gives way to a slow, expensive prog-pop mellowness, opening new horizons in every way. And every direction. It ends in a rippling wave of distortion.

This is essentially Rún in a nutshell: they have no confines, no limits, and to touch them is to embark on a journey. And what a journey this is.

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Listen: ‘Ultraviolet’ by Ventenner

Posted: 14 August 2025 in Recommended Streams and Videos, Singles and EPs
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After rising through the ranks steadily from their 2014 album Distorture through to 2017’s Invidia record and following a series of EPs and singles, alternative rock hybrid outfit Ventenner return with new EP Slow Dissolve on 31st October (Athanor Records). Known for flawlessly blending metal, atmospheric electronics and doomy riffs, this latest release marks a new era for the band, following a number of years of major changes and upheavals. Though the concept of change has been a constant theme that has run through Ventenner’s music. Frontman Charlie Dawe comments,

"A lot of my music over the years has centered around the idea of something ending and something new beginning. There’s always been a strong theme of death and rebirth in the approach. These were normally restricted to the lyrical themes and to a personal level, this time however it was more about the band as a whole and a concept.

We had got to a good point by the end of the decade. Our 2017 album Invidia had been a success, so had the subsequent singles we released in its wake. It had opened doors to big shows and big tours, management, a publishing deal, tipped as the next big thing etc etc. After the lockdown, we had some key line up changes that didn’t end on good terms, and I spent the following years releasing Ventenner albums and EPs with fellow long time member Luke Jacobs. But the way things were, the industry was on pause still, and our momentum had stalled."

Despite those releases being some of Ventenner’s best work to date, it all came to a head in 2023, with their first step on to the stage in 4 years. Charlie explains,

"The newly joined RomyBen-Hur and Ted Nieddu, both on guitars and backing vocals, came along for the trip and musically it was great. The tour was fun, the people who came said we were on our A game, but it was stressful and difficult and without the support of our agent (who had quit the business in covid) it wasn’t a success. Personally, my life was in a similar situation. Having made some difficult decisions to move on from people and things, done the therapy thing, I had no idea where I fit in to music any more, if Ventenner was still a thing or ever would be, generally an existential crisis and cataclysmic shift on every level.”

After nearly 20 years in London, Charlie admitted defeat, closed his record label and moved to the wild coasts of Rural Suffolk. Away from the pressures of living in the capital, he got sober, ran in the woods every day, immersed himself in a burgeoning career as a film score composer and thought that maybe, that was it…. Charlie adds,

"We had put out an album in 2024, Exit Manual, which was the most startlingly apt title I’ve ever come up with for what I and the band were going through at that point. For me it was probably a swan song and it was time to bow out, quietly and without applause.

At some point, whether it was the newfound clarity and productivity, the letting go of negative elements, or just being away from everything and being ‘on the outside’ of the industry, something just sparked. I had a few things left over from the previous album sessions that didn’t fit, and some ideas I had from a side project called Last Sign which never really came into full bloom. So I started writing for Ventenner again, not because I thought I had to or I had something to prove like the last 10 or so years, but just because I wanted to. I had been writing a lot out here, both for solo work and soundtracks, and it was flowing easily. The long drawn out slow dissolve of the last 10 years was not the demise I had thought it was, rather just a very gradual reveal.”

The results are the Slow Dissolve EP, now once again a solo project with Charlie handling all the music and vocals, this is the sound of an artist refreshed, refocussed and reenergised across 4 new tracks of dark heavy rock & metal, underpinned with atmospheric textures. Essential listening for fans of: Nine Inch Nails, Filter, Smashing Pumpkins, Deftones, Failure, Tool & Massive Attack with Cold in Berlin vocalist makes a guest appearance on ’Sway’.

Today sees the release of first single ‘Ultraviolet’ which according to Charlie, “is about examining things close up. Things that are only visible under a certain light, but are there all the time and affecting everything we do. This song, and this record, is about finding the hidden reason in our actions. Things that wanted to stay hidden for our own protection, but need to be uncovered if we ever want to move forward.”

Listen to the track now:

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MOTHS – Septem

Posted: 1 August 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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1st August 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

The other day, while riffling through my record collection, I found a few LPs and 12” I had quite forgotten owning, including a promo copy of ‘Chance’ by Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. Stapled to the plain black die-cut cover of this white-label record with the title hand-written in biro, is a press release which simply reads ‘I know this is what you’ve all been waiting for….. Yep. The new Red Lorry Yellow Lorry single It’s called “Chance” and as usual it’s on Red Rhino Records. It’s very good’ and is signed ‘Yours condescendingly’.

You just don’t get press releases like that any more – especially not typed in all block caps and photocopied.

I appreciate the effort that goes into a good press release, and a solid band bio, because it does help me as a reviewer get a sense of context, of what a band’s about, what an album’s about. But the counterpoint to that is that there’s so much detail being spoon-fed, there’s less room for creative interpretation. The fact of the music industry has changed radically since the 80s and 90s, the days of the weekly inkies, the time before the Internet.

There simply was no way of ‘doing research’. And writers had tight deadlines. And so they just riffed to fill the column inches. Facts were hazy, critiques were often based on first impressions and knocked out in an hour after an extended liquid lunch. Names, dates, titles weren’t always accurate. And fans scoffed at the errors – and still do when clippings are posted online – but that was the nature of the beast.

Now, misspell the name of the bassist or give the wrong year for their debut EP, or somesuch and PRs, labels, and bands are onto you straight away asking for corrections. In a competitive market – I often report that on average, I receive around fifty submissions a day – simply getting coverage is a massive feat. This is certainly not to say that those times past were better – simply different, and I simply navigate my way to this release via this route to demonstrate the ways in which things have changed in the years since I started out writing about music in the 90s. It’s also altogether rarer now to find negative reviews, and while a part of this is due to the overwhelming amount of music being released meaning that reviewers are generally more inclined to spend what time they have promoting music they like, there’s also a certain element of fear of there being a social media pile-on, or having their supply of gratis music cut off. But artists and their labels and PR really need to accept that they’re not going to please all the people all the time, and sometimes, it’s necessary to call out an act with dodgy politics or whatever, or to simply call a turd a turd.

Anyway. Before I’ve even hit play, I’ve learned that this release by MOTHS is ‘a visceral journey through the Seven Deadly Sins, with each track embodying a facet of indulgence, obsession, and self-destruction — from the corrosive jealousy of “Envy” to the insatiable hunger of “Gluttony” and the rage of “Wrath”. The album plunges listeners into a dark, immersive experience where desire spirals into chaos’, and that ‘Diving deeper into heavier territory, MOTHS fuse elements of death and black metal with their signature blend of progressive, psychedelic, doom, and stoner metal, crafting a sound that’s both aggressive and atmospheric. With every step forward, MOTHS continues to explore new sounds and challenge genre boundaries, proving that music has no limits when driven by passion and innovation.’

I feel as if my work is already done. I can pour myself a large vodka and kick back, right? Well, I could. But that’s not my style. At least not the kicking back part. Large vodka in hand, I brace myself for the sonic onslaught… to be faced with some tinkering banjo or acoustic guitar giving country licks that are pure blues / Americana. And it gets jazzier and groovier as it goes on. What the fuck is this?

‘Sloth’ slides into ‘Envy’, a slippery, sultry alt-rock cut where the vocals are bathed in reverb, and the lo-fi production belies the fact that this is a vaguely jazzed-up take on grungy emo, at times coming on like Paramore recorded on a 90s cassette four-track. The haziness of the recording is actually something of a positive, but these are songs which require a slicker, fuller production. As a consequence, these takes sound more like demos than final versions.

The murky rawness works better on ‘Greed’, which brings rabid, raw-throated, growling black metal elements to the vaguely gothic metal compositions. It segues into ‘Pride’ which goes full-throttle skin-peeling abrasion before suddenly going commercial rock with fancy licks at the midpoint. I like ZZ Top, as it happens. I just wasn’t expecting a riff from Eliminator here.

‘Pride’ does take things full heavy, a prime slice of sludgy doom, and ‘Lust’ is, without question, a slugging slab of doominess, with some fancy fretwork thrown in on top. There’s certainly a lot going on here, and most of it works. MOTHS certainly bring some megalithic riffs and a lot of fire to an album that may be unpredictable in places, but is, overall, solid and with no shortfall of gutsy, guitar-driven heft.

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Trudger – Void Quest

Posted: 31 July 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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Floodlit Recordings – 29th August 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Having discovered Swans in my teens – it was the late 80s and a friend introduced me to their most recent album, Children of God, which swiftly led me, via weekends spent at record fairs, to Cop, whenever I’m forewarned that a new release is ‘heavy’, I invariably find myself thinking ‘really? How heavy? Bring it on!’

I read – am forewarned – that Trudger’s ‘new album Void Quest… released on August 29th through Floodlit Recordings, a new label venture from guitarist of Pijn and Leeched… [is]

absolutely savage’. I saw Pijn live a few years ago and they slayed, so I consider this a positive in advance. And there’s no question that Void Quest is something of a monster. Arriving a full eleven years on from their debut, it’s as if they’ve distilled all the rage and festering fury of a decade into the nine songs on offer here.

The first track, ‘Merciless Sabre’ is fast and furious, but arrives with a surplus of fast licks and an element of black metal fretwankery that, in my ears, diminishes its weight despite the rampant, rabid ravings of the vocals, the tempestuous blast of the instruments combined to create a thunderous wall of noise.

Things settle to a more organised shape with ‘Occupied Frequency’, where math and metal merge. It seems as if they flung everything into the blender to grab the attention at the start and possibly overdid it, as things aren’t quite as wildly ostentatious thereafter. Sure, the guitar work is fast and furious, and it’s still showy and perhaps a bit over-the-top, but they layer down some magnificent textures and judicious detail amidst the relentless sonic assault, the eardrum-bursting blast.

‘God Rest’ is slower, heavier, and utterly devastating in its driving density. ‘Battle Hardened’ is simply out-and-out brutal, a song that slays all comers. Think you’re hard? Wait for this. This is shit that will slice your head off and ruin your internal organs.

Void Quest is heavy, but what makes it really heavy is its relentlessness. Thirty-five minutes or so of blasting ferocious noise, it leaves you feeling like you’ve just been given a good kicking. I wouldn’t recommend taking a kicking, but I would recommend this.

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Headless Kross / Pound Land – Headless Kross / Pound Land

Posted: 29 July 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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Cruel Nature Records – 12th September 2025

Cruel Nature have a solid track record for putting out some storming releases by bands who you could reasonably describe as ‘difficult’ but also ‘cult’. This is pretty much Pound Land in a nutshell. As for Headless Kross… The Glaswegian act’s Bandcamp describes them as ‘the ideal soundtrack to the slow unravelling of the world as we understand it. Their sound has been described as psychedelic doom – monolithic riffs, rumbling bass and primal beats lurk behind waves of effects, all strangely underpinned by ethereal shrieks of half heard words, possibly real, possibly not.’ That their name is – I’m assuming – an allusion to the fourteenth album by Black Sabbath offers something of a clue. The fact the label has pushed the boat out for an advance-order lathe-cut vinyl version of this release speaks for itself. At least in relative terms, this is a big ‘un.

Having toured together, they decided to put out a split release, and it’s pleasing to see these making a comeback – something Cruel Nature in particular has been spearheading. I’ve sung the praises of the split release on a number of occasions in recent months, and this is a perfect example of why they’re great: here, we essentially have an EP apiece from two quality acts who are – and this is significant, and absolutely key – contrasting and complimentary.

As the album’s accompanying notes are keen to point out, ‘The result isn’t your standard split album – it’s a sonic blood pact, equal parts homage and havoc’, going on to explain that ‘They also agreed to trade riffs and cover a song by each other: Pound Land tear into ‘Signed In Blood’ and Headless Kross unleash a doom-laden crushing riff-tastic seismic version of ‘Pathogen’.

Headless Kross are up first with their trio of ball-busting, sludge-trudge riffery. ‘The Thing Invisible’ is six minutes of thick, treacle-like riff-wading, with some extravagant solo work before the snarling, mania-driven vocals join the fray a couple of minutes in. Their take on ‘Pathogen’ is nothing short of devastating: a rabid roar tears over a thunderous trudge, and hints at how Pound Land would sound if they could be arsed to be angry or metal. The solo that breaks out toward the end is brief, but wild.

‘The Necessity of 3 Conditions’ is eight and a half minutes of relentless brutality. A Suicide-like throb pulsates: the drumming is almost buried in the dingy low-end mess and the vocals rip bling rage across the whole dingy grind.’

If you’re wanting some light relief, you’re not going to find it with Pound Land’s five tracks: operating here as a six-piece unit with Jase Kester back in the lineup and bringing layers of abrasion, they set their stall up straight away with the anti-capitalist, bollock-to-billionaires agenda served up neatly with their first track, ‘Fuck Off to Mars.’ It’s gnarly, twisted, dark, and despite the low-slung, dingy bass and rabid, reverby vocals which evoke Fudge Tunnel’s first album, there’s something about it that drags the listener in by the throat.

‘I See Crime’ is messy, dirty, but works, although I’m not sure if it’s because of or in spite of the angular contradictions of honking horns ad grimy guitars with a nasty low-end attack.

Nothing about this release is accessible: it’s low, slow, riffy, hard, heavy. Very heavy. Hypnotically heavy. It’s all the riffs, and is something special. Very special. Get this, now.

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Watch: ‘Schwedentrunk [Official Music Video]’ by Scalpture

Posted: 23 July 2025 in Recommended Streams and Videos, Singles and EPs
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Skål! German death metal militants SCALPTURE unleash the new video clip ‘Schwedentrunk’ in the wake of the release of their new full-length Landkrieg (‘Land Warfare’), which hit the world hard on March 7, 2025.

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The title ‘Schwedentrunk’ (‘Swedish Drink’) refers to a torture method, which was allegedly used at first by the troops of Gustav II Adolph, King of Sweden but got quickly adopted by all marauding troops ravaging the German lands during the 30 Years’ War (1618-1648). It was executed by forcing liquid manure and sewage down the throats of its victims.

The video clip was partially shot during SCALPTURE’s release show at Rare Guitar in Münster, Germany on March 7, and on the subsequent tour with CARNAL TOMB.

SCALPTURE comment: “The track ‘Schwedentrunk’ has quickly grown into a favourite both of the band as well as during our shows since Landkrieg was released in March”, guitarist Felix Marbach writes. “Much of the footage was shot at our release show and also during the tour with Carnal Tomb. The live video captures the raw ferocity on stage, but it is also a reminder of the intense time that we were able to share with so many of you. With some summer festivals on the horizon, we are going to pick up right there, where we left off.”

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Belonging – Hollow Cells

Posted: 17 July 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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Dipterid Records – 18th July 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

That artists can have complete control over their creative output, artwork, and every other aspect of their releases, including the schedule, is often hailed as one of the great virtues of the age of the Internet, especially Bandcamp and Spotify. It’s also oft-said that quality will reach its audience regardless. But thanks to algorithms and the fact that most creatives aren’t best at (self)-promotion and have no budget to pay anyone else to do the job, it simply doesn’t happen that way. And so it is that Hollow Cells, the debut album from Portland-based sludge / stoner metal band, Belonging, self-released in May, is now receiving a vinyl release courtesy of Dipterid Records, which comes with proper distribution and PR – which is why we’re here now.

Social media is aclog with music fans dismissing the role of critics and music reviews, scoffing about how they’re worthless and their opinions not worth shit. But the fact is that unless you have a mate with their ear to the ground, or the algorithm delivers particularly favourable results – unlikely for a minor band who’ve taken the self-release route – the industry mechanisms of labels, PR, press, and radio can make all the difference. Back in the 90s, pre-Internet, I relied on print media and late-night radio to discover new music that wasn’t top-40 chart stuff, and would be as likely to seek out an album based on a negative review as a positive one. Because criticism goes both ways, and critical reading, while perhaps a dying skill, was essential in order to read between the lines. In short, a negative review isn’t – or at least wasn’t – necessarily a bad thing.

I’ve digressed. And I’m not giving Hollow Cells a negative review – because it’s a belting album.

There’s space and separation between the instruments, and the drums – which bring us into the first track, ‘Lady Vanishes’ – have that ‘live’ feel – as, indeed, do the rest of the instruments. This is a recording that captures speaker-quivering volume. The overdriven guitar is thick, driving, the bass hangs low and heavy. The songs are structured, but primarily constructed around the riff, and the riffs are epic. But there’s detail, too, which emerges from the monolithic sludgefest. The stop / start shouty aggro racket of ‘Ceiling’ starts out a bit Therapy? but then swerves to a place that’s more Fugazi, and it’s precisely this range that shows that Belonging have something more to offer than template stoner / sludge: the energy of Hollow Cells is exhilarating from beginning to end.

The six-minute ‘Birdwatcher’ ventures into more post-punk territory, with Bryce August adopting a growlier, baritone vocal style that, when paired with steely grey guitars, invites comparisons to Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, before the song veers in a very different direction that’s more anthemic indie than anything, but with guitars which are absolutely huge.

As it progresses, Hollow Cells becomes increasingly difficult to place, and all the better for it. It’s heavy, but melodic, grungy but not so much angsty. It’s more obscure 90s acts like The God Machine and 8-Storey Window which come to mind during the second half of the album, and with each song, I come to realise how short any genre-based pitch is doomed to fall. ‘Longhaul’ is classic 90s grunge, but works on account of being more Nirvana than Bush, while chucking in a dash of Shellac. The bassline is killer

Hollow Cells is bursting with emotional depth, an ache. But then there are blasting punk songs like ‘Bonehead’ which are more in the vein of …And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead. And this is why Hollow Cells is so good: it never fails to confound expectation, and never fails to exceed expectation, either. It’s quality from beginning to end – a rare thing indeed. I don’t do stars, but if I did, this would be a 9.5.

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Ba’al – The Fine Line Between Heaven and Here

Posted: 14 July 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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Road To Masochist – 18th July 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Perhaps I’m simply more aware, but it feels as if black metal and adjacent subgenres are experiencing a significant moment. Sign of the times? Perhaps. There’s a new wave of all strains of metal, and it’s not simply loner misfit teenage boys and middle-aged blokes who still live at home, working entry-level jobs and playing Dungeons and Dragons on a weekend. In fact, it’s anything but, and the old stereotype no longer holds water here in 2025. Metal offers a number of things: catharsis through anger and abrasive noise is perhaps the most obvious. In case you hadn’t noticed, the world is a dark and dismal place. It’s also terrifying, and run by cunts. And people seem to be losing the plot. Social and moral boundaries aren’t so much collapsing and being torn apart from the top down. Metal offers an outlet that’s safe and harmless, by way of an alternative to embarking on killing sprees. Connected to this, there’s also a certain escapism offered in the domains of metal, which operates on a number of levels. Finally, there’s a sense of community within metal circles: something I’ve touched on a number of occasions is just how safe and accommodating metal gigs always feel. A room full of misfits together is some kind of utopia.

Of the current crop, Sheffield post-black metal quintet Ba’al stand out, and this, their second album, is billed as ‘their most ambitious work to date’. Of course: bands, labels, and PR always say that. But a thirteen-minute opener is nothing if not a clear statement of ambition. It begins with gentle piano, delicate, emotive, atmospheric, evoking the sound of 2004 post-rock, of Her Name Is Calla – and when the guitars crash in, it’s sweeping, cinematic, as much And So I Watch You From Afar as anything overtly metal. It’s not until over three minutes in that storm clouds gather – and blow in fast. In an instant, there is a flurry of blackness, frenzied fretwork blurring into a dense backdrop for scorched, demonic vocals. But after the tempest and turmoil die down, there’s a further segment that could almost be a song in its own right that combines elements of neofolk and shoegaze. It’s softer, more melodic, but somehow ragged… and then they deliver a monumental sustained climax that it nothing short of obliterative.

I’ve seen a few comments on social media dismissing reviews for not being objective, as if we respond to music based on its technical merits rather than on an emotional level. Those making such comments are clearly cretins, because Oasis are shite whichever way you slice it, but if you want objectivity, Ba’al deliver emotional heft with eye-popping technical prowess. Within these first thirteen minutes, they bring texture, tone, dynamics, detail. Where can they possibly go from here?

It transpires that they’re only just getting going. ‘Waxwork Gordon’ opens delicately on a drift of chiming guitar. Rolling drums join, and there’s an evocation of trees and dappled shade – for a moment, before the gates of hell open and molten lava flows forth. But again, there are passages which border on the edge of folk and prog here. Instead of diminishing the power of the black, chugging riffs, they enhance their potency. The eleven-minute ‘Well of Sorrows’ is, indeed, riven with melancholy, but also rays of hope beam through in the form of some deft playing, clean sounds and bright tones, which intersect with sustained thunderous blasts, while the album’s penultimate track, ‘The Ocean that Fills a Wound’ weighing in at thirteen and a half minutes is the very definition of epic. For the most part, it’s rolling, mellow, again more neofolk than metal. But when they slam on the distortion and go for the riffs, they go hard. Closer ‘Legasov’ arrives in a squall of feedback and forges a molten course to the album’s conclusion.

The band’s willingness – nay, urge – to embrace more than metal tropes, and to offer a remarkably broad sonic palette is integral to their appeal. These are songs which expand the parameters of metal in myriad directions. There’s a lot to assimilate here. Joe Stamps’ versatility as a vocalist is a real asset, but collectively, Ba’al’s capacity to swing seamlessly between forms is remarkable.

There will be some for whom their range is simply too much. That’s their loss. The simple fact is that The Fine Line Between Heaven and Here is an incredibly bold, and wide-ranging work, that defies narrow categorisation. It’s a hell of a lot more than metal, that’s for sure. It’s immense. It will open your eyes. And it will probably blow you away.

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Burial / Thy Dying Light / Blasfeme / Cogas – The Fulford Arms, York 21st June 2025

Posted: 22 June 2025 in Live, Reviews
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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Christopher Nosnibor

Last night, I spotted a post on Facebook from the Fulford Arms bearing the caption ‘hot day / sold out show = sweat dripping from the ceiling… f*cling awesome!’

And the gentrification of the grassroots venues we have left mean such occasions are a lot rarer than they used to be. And while for some punters it’s likely seen as a good thing, I personally do miss the sweaty mess aspect of packed-out pub venues, not because I necessarily enjoy being a sweaty mess, but because it was a part of the live experience, and you knew you’d been to a proper show if you came out absolutely drenched and having lost about 3lbs through perspiration.

And so it is that here we are at The Fulford Arms on the hottest day of the year so far. The thermometer in my back yard was showing 34°C earlier in the day. I found myself thinking ‘at least it can’t be as hot as The Mission at The Crescent, right? Or DZ Deathrays at the 50-capacity Woolpack in 2013… Surely?’ And it wasn’t. And not just in terms of temperature.

Cogas are a blackened death metal three-piece, with guitar, drums and vocals, plus face paint, chains, studs and random props. The seven-string guitar brings frenzied fretwork and some solid low end, and rapid fire kick drum action ensures the sound isn’t thin despite that lack of numbers. The singer looks really angry for the entirety of the set, and it works in terms of character, but it may be because of the amount of time he spends adjusting his mic stand. Towards the end of the set he wields an inverted cross of bones. Its relevance is unclear, but it’s an interesting visual.

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Cogas

Blasfeme have more and bigger spikes, more black face paint and more guitars: two plus a five-string bass. This combination ratchets up both the volume and density. They play hard and fast, the vocals are a demonic shriek. By a few songs in, half their makeup has disappeared, and with his office haircut the vocalist is transformed back to a more daytime look, but guitarist Vermin flails his hair furiously and they pound their way through a set of highly structured songs, predominantly culled from their latest album, delivered with a rare tightness, and there’s no denying their quality.

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Blasfeme

Thy Dying Light go darker still, with iron cross patches and black cymbals and shiny Spandex trews – plus a candelabra and a selection of horns and sheep skulls in front of the drum kit. the smoke seems to make the room even hotter, and by the end of the set, even the skulls looks like they’re sweating. The guitar/ drums duo – self-professed purveyors of “Cumbrian Black Metal” – deliver a set that’s raw and murky and true to the principles of black metal, seemingly have spent as long on their makeup as writing the songs. A big bearded guy in a Sunn O))) t-shirt emits a guttural growl between each song instead of applause.

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Thy Dying Light

Burial bring beards and shaved heads, and t-shirts with cut-off sleeves. Their sound is as burly as they look, meaning that sonically they’re solid, but the fact their inter-song chat can be summarised as “how are you doing York, you soft wankers” and “fuck off you sexy cunts”, I’d have preferred more songs and less bantz. There seems to be a lot of in-jokes, which the faithful are in on, calling for them to get their tits out, but it rather falls flat for the casual observer.

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Burial

Perhaps the heat was a factor – certainly, the moshing was minimal and the crowd were keener to rush the bar and get air between the bands than go nuts during their sets – but something about the lineup simply failed to ignite on the night. None of the bands were duds, by any stretch, but there were no explosive cathartic peaks, making for a night that would sit in the ‘middling’ bracket overall. And that’s fine: four bands for a tenner means £2.50 a band, and it’s hard to begrudge that, and as a showcase of a breadth of metal, it delivered.

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