Starlight and Ash really should have been bigger. Oceans of Slumber managed to take their unique goth/prog/doom synthesis and channel it into a softer, more palatable sound with their fifth outing, and the results were often breathtaking. (Mostly) gone were the band’s usual crushing riffs, as they opted to deliver a beautifully haunting gothic rock sound with a heavy helping of Southern flavor. The songs were sweeping, cinematic, and – perhaps most importantly – proof that Oceans of Slumber could diversify their sound without losing the core of what makes their work so special. And you’d think this would all translate to more commercial success and expand their fanbase… but nope, Starlight and Ash mostly came and went. I’ll let frontwoman and chief songwriter Cammie Beverly explain:

“The thing is, we never said we’re never going to do something heavy again [...] people panic when a band puts out an album that does something different. It was a weird time. It came during a time when our music was different from everything else, and I think the record was a bit lost on some people - people that mattered in our realm. The fans got it, and it was received really well, just not by the label!”

That last part is particularly important, as Century Media were pushing the band to play it safe and stick to their signature prog-doom sound with Starlight and Ash – something they certainly weren’t interested in doing. Clearly a change needed to be made. Thankfully, they were scooped up by an unlikely savior in the form of Season of Mist, a label that actively encourages a more progressive, experimental approach to metal music. This must have felt like an absolute blessing to the Texas five-piece, as they’d effectively been given free reign to tweak and redefine their sound as they saw fit. Add a few lineup changes into the mix (which involved replacing both guitarists), and 2024's Where Gods Fear to Speak was already shaping up to be quite an interesting record from the get-go.

And what an interesting record it is! What we have here is effectively a balance between the Starlight and Ash sound and Oceans of Slumber’s older work – think The Banished Heart or Winter. The crushing, oppressive doom riffs are back in the band’s arsenal again; however, they’ve been given more sweeping cinematic backdrops for that extra gothic touch. As such, the group’s penchant for atmosphere is as strong as ever, something that’s evident right from the opening title track. A barren, podding guitar riff sets the stage for all the doom and gloom to follow, as Cammie’s commanding voice glides over the ever-shifting rhythms of the song. But if you listen closely, you might notice that the growled vocals aren’t quite the same as they were on previous records… and that’s because Cammie sung them herself this time around.

Yes, for the first time on an Oceans of Slumber album, her vocals are the only ones you’ll hear from the main lineup. She ain’t half bad at them either, as her gutturals and screams are suitably menacing and brutal; moreover, they provide a nice contrast to her soaring vibrato-laden cleans. The aforementioned title track is a great example of this, but “Poem of Ecstasy” takes the juxtaposition even further; what begins as a melancholic power ballad transforms into an absolute barnburner, punctuated by savage growls and blastbeats. And as with prior efforts, the other members are well-equipped to lay down a complex musical gauntlet behind her, especially in the case of Cammie’s husband Dobber Beverly. He runs through just about every tempo one could imagine, from agonizingly slow doom metal drumming to rapid-fire blast beats – all while displaying plenty of technical proficiency. For a track that captures every facet of his abilities, check out the proggy mini-epic “Don’t Come Back from Hell Empty Handed”.

Meanwhile, the new guitarists fit Oceans of Slumber just fine – almost as if there weren’t any lineup changes in the first place. Chris Jones and Chris Kritikos are certainly serviceable in their roles here, although I must admit that they don’t go beyond the call of duty; the same can be said for returning bassist Semir Ozerkan. Rather, Where Gods Fear to Speak primarily focuses on two things: the musical chemistry between Cammie and Dobber, and the atmosphere of each track. Whether it’s the haunting minimalistic piano work of “Poem of Ecstasy”, the dark brooding synth undertow of “The Given Dream”, or the unsettling dissonance of the guitars on “Prayer” (the latter of which features Mikael Stanne of Dark Tranquility!), the band really know how to set a compelling mood and continually expand on it. And while most of the tracklist fits within the “slow build, intense middle section, epic climax” framework, the closer is perhaps the most striking piece here for how different it is. “Wicked Game” caps off the record with a lovely barebones piano ballad, completely devoid of the heavy riffs and growls that preceded it – bringing the whole experience to a strangely soothing close.

What really impresses me about Where Gods Fear to Speak is that Oceans of Slumber didn’t outright forget or abandon what made Starlight and Ash so special. Instead, this outing inherits its best qualities and meshes them near-perfectly with the group’s tried-and-true sound. As a result, they’ve crafted a wonderful slab of progressive doom metal that puts intricate songwriting, stellar performances, compelling soundscapes, and crushing riffs on equal footing with each other. Where Gods Fear to Speak truly stands alongside The Banished Heart as one of Oceans of Slumber’s finest accomplishments to date.

Of all the major bands who mix progressive metal and power metal, Evergrey have had one of the cleanest 50/50 ratios of the two. Sure, you can label Symphony X power/prog, but they clearly lean on the prog metal side; hence all the comparisons to bands like Dream Theater. On the other hand, groups like Blind Guardian and Kamelot – while having prog hallmarks like weird time signatures and elaborate arrangements – are still power metal at their core. But Evergrey? They meld the genres together in a near-seamless way, which is crucial to the atmosphere and aesthetics they’re going for. It allows them to explore a sound that’s equal parts propulsive and tragic; anthemic and haunting; upbeat and pensive.

Let’s take their most celebrated record for example. 2001’s In Search of Truth is a glorious marriage of complex songcraft, a haunting atmosphere, dramatic vocals, and a little dash of power metal cheese; the final result is one of the most compelling metal records of the 2000s. And frankly, that power/prog mix was a big reason that it worked so well. After all, how else could the band explore an outlandish concept (alien abductions), while exhibiting such an impressive sense of drama and mystery? For that last part, you can also thank frontman Tom S. Englund. The guy can read the damn phone book and make it interesting, as he’s adept at treating any subject with just the right level of grace and contemplation. And as Evergrey have soldiered on, Englund has applied this talent to a wide range of topics – be it religion, child abuse, personal strife, or cults.

The group’s newest offering Theories of Emptiness is largely a continuation of their trademark sound, but there are some notable tweaks to the formula this time around. The first change might not be immediately evident on opener “Falling from the Sun”, as this track is your quintessential Evergrey scorcher – rapid-fire chugs, anthemic chorus, impressive guitar wizardry, all that good stuff. But the second tune, “Misfortune”, reveals the record’s most standout feature: the fact that it sounds fucking huge. Much of this is attributed to the vastly improved production, which allows for a more spacious and panoramic take on the band’s sound. As the chasmic riffs of “Misfortune” lumber on, you can hear every little intricacy around you: the orchestral backdrop, the twinkling keyboard melodies in the verses, the subtly shifting bass lines, everything.

This larger-than-life approach applies to much of the tracklist, whether we’re talking about the sweeping gothic choruses of “Cold Dreams” (featuring Jonas Renkse of Katatonia fame!) or the soaring guitar harmonies of “One Heart”. But this isn’t to say the band watered down their sound in the process – the “Imagine Dragons-ification”, if you will. Instead Theories of Emptiness simply introduces a few new twists to their tried-and-true style. And while this is a decidedly less intense and heavy record than we might be used to from Evergrey, the moments in which they do exhibit that energy are as effective as ever. Take “We Are the North”, for instance: atmosphere and aggression collide, as the cinematic keys provide a backdrop for a series of off-kilter Meshuggah-esque chugs. Meanwhile, “Say” locks into an incredible midtempo groove for its main riff, which is equal parts heavy and catchy.

The other shift found on Theories of Emptiness is in the lyrical content – which is to say that it’s a bit more obtuse this time around. Much like The Fall of Hearts by the aforementioned Katatonia, this offering opts for a more abstract take on Evergrey’s usual topics. But it still effectively communicates the same feelings of melancholy, despair, and – of course – emptiness. The album title is pretty apt, as each song seems to explore the concept of emptiness in its own unique way. “Falling From the Sun” sets the stage for this quite nicely, as it details the age-old fight against one’s own darkness and desolation. From there, we get themes of identity (“To Become Someone Else”), personal loss (“Ghost of My Hero”), and general hopelessness (“Cold Dreams”), before wrapping everything up with the closing title track. The lyrics will certainly not be for everyone, as they tend to be very bleak and somber; still, I can’t deny that they’re compelling all the same.

Despite the changes I mentioned, this is still an Evergrey album at the end of the day. It retains the group’s core power/prog sound – albeit slower and more atmospheric this time around – and delivers the same dark, brooding energy they’ve given us for decades now. Theories of Emptiness doesn’t quite reinvent the wheel, but at this point in their career, I don’t think the band are striving for a radical reinvention anyway. This is just an incredibly solid slab of melodic metal, delivered with the band’s signature technical prowess and haunting vibes. Or in other words, another worthy entry in the vast Evergrey canon.

To anyone who only knows Dave Lombardo’s work on a surface level, Rites of Percussion may seem like a strange stylistic turn for him to take. The former drummer of Slayer abandoning metal and releasing an experimental, almost ambient record? Crazy. But remember: Lombardo’s been slowly adding more dimensions to his playing over the years, whether that be with the avant-garde group Fantômas or his collaborations with saxophonist and composer John Zorn. So in reality, an album like Rites of Percussion didn’t necessarily come out of the blue. Here’s what Lombardo told NPR regarding the project:

"It's something I've always wanted to do because I've been influenced by so many other drummers and percussionists that weren't metal or thrash, you know? I wanted to express how deep my influence goes with rhythm."

As such, what we get here is essentially one long drum exercise, accompanied by strange, hypnotic sound effects to enhance the overall “vibe”. If you’re looking for any manner of conventional songwriting, you ain’t getting that here. In terms of where Rites of Percussion fits into Lombardo’s discography, I would tie it most closely to his eerie, experimental performance on Fantômas’ Delirium Cordia. But unlike that 74-minute-long behemoth, this record is much more lean and streamlined; just 34 minutes of drumming and odd effects, and that’s about it. Still, with that said, there are a few standout cuts among the general repetition of Rites of Percussion. “Interfearium”, for instance, does away with the drums for most of its runtime, instead opting to let its uncomfortable horror-like atmosphere do the talking; the track is a wonderful exercise in tension and release, as its buildup almost becomes unbearable by the end. “Maunder in Liminality” is another cut that loves to dwell in this uneasy musical setting, as the entrancing drum patterns beget the strange keyboards looming above them.

If there’s any sort of diversity on Rites of Percussion, it comes from just how many drumming styles - as well as how many types of drums - Lombardo could fit into one album. He explores everything from metal to Afro-Cuban jazz to bebop to film scores, and that’s when you realize: this record basically acts as a celebration of everything Lombardo has accomplished over the course of his career. Shades of his work with Slayer, Fantômas, Grip Inc., and Testament can all be found here, all peppered with Lombardo’s Cuban roots. The man is one hell of an accomplished musician, and I really hope Rites of Percussion can serve as a way for the uninitiated to discover just how talented and versatile he is. This is most certainly a niche record - anyone who’s not already a Lombardo fan or drum aficionado may be turned off by it - but it’s a cool one nonetheless. And at only 34 minutes, it’s at just the right length to do its job, experiment with some neat ideas, and get the hell out. If you enjoy Lombardo’s work and want to hear a brief summary of his many, many accomplishments, I highly recommend Rites of Percussion.

A lone man walks into a sea of people. He looks quite unassuming, adorned with a hoodie, jeans, and a pair of headphones. He looks like he’s about to spit some bars to the unsuspecting crowd… but then the unexpected happens. Suddenly, we - and, by association, the people around him - are met with a barrage of piercing screams and aggressive shouts. This man, clearly having balls of steel, has opted not to lip-sync his vocals but instead belt them out at the top of his lungs. The public looks on in equal parts terror and awe, probably wondering if the dude is possessed. It’s an absolute spectacle, to say the least.

What I just described is the video for Ilenkus’ single “Over the Fire, Under the Smoke”, and its chaotic energy is complimented perfectly by the music itself. The Irish outfit’s second album The Crossing is basically the twisted bastard child of The Dillinger Escape Plan’s progressive mathcore and Cult of Luna’s dense atmospheric sludge metal, and the results are pretty breathtaking. Combine technical riffs, blackgaze-esque blast beat sections, incendiary vocals, and contemplative quiet passages, and you’ve got a pretty good idea of what you’ll find here. Much like The Dillinger Escape Plan, Ilenkus are compelling in their ability to come off as controlled and focused while also sounding as utterly vicious as possible. And of course, if we’re gonna talk “vicious”, I need to bring up the individual I was referring to in the first paragraph: Chris Brennan. This guy’s vocals are absolutely savage. His inhuman screaming is an excellent fit for the music, especially during the more “blackened” passages in which he lets loose his most intense wails. This isn’t to say that he uses these vocals all the time - he does opt for cleans during the more reflective moments - but his harsh ones are certainly his most impressive.

Still, the other members rise to the occasion as well. One of the biggest marks in The Crossing’s favor is its diversity, and much of that is attributed to the musicians’ versatility and willingness to experiment. Opener “Devourer” is a perfect example of this, as its unpredictable, turbulent nature makes it both unnerving and exciting - especially when you’re hearing it for the first time. What begins as an all-out barrage on the senses, complete with riffing and drumwork ripped out of the Jane Doe-era Converge playbook, turns into a musical labyrinth that’s equal parts mathy and melodic; hell, the middle section of “Devourer” is so serene and calm that you almost forget just how violent and brutal everything started out. But that’s what I love so much about The Crossing - the fact that these songs really feel like journeys, replete with stimulating twists and turns.

The title track explores these dynamic contrasts even more, and is perhaps the closest thing to post-metal on the entire record. The entire first half is a bleak, doomy Neurosis-esque buildup that merges beauty and bleakness while highlighting the guitarists’ abilities to create atmosphere and intrigue. Brennan, Sam Ellis, and Josh Guyett all contribute to the guitar work found on The Crossing, and if you want a good insight to both their technical prowess and synergy, listen to the title track in its entirety; the way the trio transform the piece from a pensive melodic piece into a tightly-controlled blast of math/sludge fury is impressive as hell. As for drummer Rory Guyett and bassist Robin Van Der Klooster’s collective presence on the record goes, I would refer you to the aforementioned “Over the Fire, Under the Smoke”; it’s the most consistently intense track on The Crossing, and its knotty twists and turns create a wonderful musical playground for the rhythm section to mess around with… most notably, a goddamn black metal section in the middle, in which Guyett gets to show off some killer blastbeats and double bass work.

Yet, as we close things out with “Goodbye Denial”, there’s a strong sense of melancholy. Beneath all the brutality and chaos that pervades much of The Crossing, the underlying vibe is one of decadent, sorrowful beauty - something that even the harsh black metal screams and technically impressive performances can’t fully mask. And this closer is a fitting way to bring it all back home, as even its most vicious moments are imbued with the same desolate aura that defined its quiet intro. Unfortunately, “Goodbye Denial” would also be a fitting title for the band’s last song: after several years of inactivity, Ilenkus finally broke up in 2022, with The Crossing being their final full-length record. It’s a real shame, as I consider this album to be somewhat of a forgotten classic; it absolutely belongs in the same company as Converge or Neurosis’ upper-tier work. And the fact that a band could actually merge such disparate influences as sludge metal and mathcore in the first place? That’s fucking awesome.

Death metal trends may come and go, but Chris Reifert is one of those special musicians you can (almost) always rely on to keep the flame of the old guard alive; after all, we’re talking about the same guy who performed on Death’s classic Scream Bloody Gore and helped spearhead the first wave of the genre. Through thick and thin, Autopsy’s vile brand of death/doom riffery has remained largely unchanged (excepting Shitfun, but let’s not talk about that). If it ain’t broke, why fix it? Just give me some disgusting gutturals, brutal riffs, and stank-face breakdowns, and I’ll be happy. Still, even in the context of Autopsy’s recent string of successes, I get the sense that the boys felt they had a bit more to prove on 2022’s Morbidity Triumphant.

To put it plainly, this is the most energized and inspired the band have sounded in years. The core ingredients of their sound are still as present as ever, but – and I know it sounds a bit trivial – the riffs are just better this time around. Take “Stab the Brain” for instance: the synthesis of brutality and groove here is just undeniable, as the opening salvo of speedy riffage gives way to an infectious doomy swing. And much like any great Autopsy record, there’s just a certain filth and rot to the music that’s palpable through the speakers. The slow, murky intro to “Final Frost” immediately conjures images of decaying zombies rising from the crypt at night, only reinforced by the sickening growls of Reifert and guitarist Eric Cutler. Of course, this doesn’t last too long, as eventually the track transforms into a furious affair with rapid-fire drumwork and nimble fretwork. And this leads me to one of the best aspects of Morbidity Triumphant: how well each disparate section connects with each other.

The band’s “death/doom” tag can be taken quite literally, as some parts are pure old-school death metal and some sections are pure doom metal. However, the connective tissue between these distinct tempo changes is generally butter-smooth. “Born in Blood” is a perfect example of this, as the atmosphere and feel of the song never changes, no matter what pace the band are playing at. You’ve got your funereal opening crawl, a thrashy midsection, and a return to the doom metal at the end; still, the same agonized vocals, grimy guitar tone, and overall adaptability of the musicians prevent each transition from sounding forced or awkward. And while we’re on the subject of the talent on display here, each band member gets plenty of time to shine. Obviously Reifert is still the star of the show, but the dynamic guitar duo of Cutler and Danny Coralles remains highly potent here. Whether it’s the groovy Sabbath-esque riffage of “The Voracious One”, the creepy melodic harmonies on “Flesh Strewn Temple”, or the fierce thrash-laden carnage of “Knife Slice, Axe Chop”, they know how to rise to any occasion or mood the music calls for. Combine that with the solid chemistry in the rhythm section of Reifert and bass newcomer Greg Wilkinson, and these songs are in some damn fine hands.

With all of that said, it’s not like Morbidity Triumphant innovates in any major way. If you didn’t like previous Autopsy records – or old school death metal in general – this will absolutely not change your mind. But with that kind of album cover, were you really expecting there to be any major stylistic changes here from their previous stuff? This is just a brutal, grimy, fun death metal record – simple as that. And while a bit more variety would certainly be welcome on the next album, Autopsy’s familiar formula hasn’t been executed this well in quite some time.

REWINDING ALL THE FUCKING GORE HORROR FLICKS STREWN ON THE FLOOR; KNIFE SLICE, AXE CHOP STREAMS OF BLOOD THAT NEVER STOP!!!