OK, the heatwaves are on, and some heavy, otherworldly music is always a good way to try and escape them! For this month, there is a black metal depth worth exploring. From Stygian Ruin’s atmospheric waves, Anfauglir’s epic symphonies, to Vauruvã’s and Hexvessel’s folk obsessions and Necromantic Worship’s romantic traditionalism.

On the death metal edge, the veterans return. Cryptopsy reclaim the throne, while Drawn and Quartered continue to be reliable in their output. In the space between, Thanatorean project avant-garde visions of extreme metal, while ByoNoiseGenerator completely flip the script with their all-encompassing grind-frenzied punk/jazz chaos.

On the hardcore side, we have the surprising return of Deadguy with an excellent follow-up to the classic (I still cannot stop spinning it), Fixation on a Coworker, and Skinhead are an absolute delight in their hard-hitting, melodically inclined sophomore. That and much more, so dig in! – Spyros Stasis

Anfauglir – Akallabêth (Debemur Morti)

Symphonic black metal band with a Tolkien fetish? Wait, this is not Summoning! Better yet, this is not a Summoning clone! Anfauglir’s story dates back to the mid-2000s but faded away quickly. An ambitious debut, Hymns over Anfauglith, and then silence, until today when Debemur Morti releases their sophomore work, Akallabêth. The 70-minute-long work dives into the tale of Númenor, its rise, and eventual downfall. This epic subject requires an equally weighty and complex sonic representation, and Anfauglir implement all their symphonic mastery to achieve this end.

Anfauglir put a lot of work into this record, and it shows. The long-form compositions reach operatic levels, and not solely through their dense orchestration. The song structures follow a non-linear and at times circular perspective. Themes are introduced, then disappear only to make a triumphant return. The tragedy of Númenor is mirrored in the record’s brooding tone, especially in “Defying the Doom of Men”, where despair seeps into every layer. Fleeting moments of glory still emerge, while soprano vocals and shadowed choirs chart the descent. The black metal elements twist the knife, adding bitterness that counterbalances the symphonic sweep.

In this mode, Anfauglir align more with Emperor’s Anthems to the Welkin at Dusk than with Summoning, aiming for grandeur over raw minimalism. So unfolds a labyrinthine narrative—an overtly ambitious project reaching Wagnerian levels. It is overall a successful experiment, where the only downside is that the whole is more important than any individual moment. Unlike acts like Caladan Brood, Anfauglir are not as interested in presenting momentary hooks and catchy phrases, something that helps with a record of such duration. Still, it does little to diminish the album’s overall impact. If you are looking for something deep, intricate, layered, and epic to sink your teeth into, then Akallabêth has you covered. – Spyros Stasis

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ByoNoiseGenerator – Subnormal Dives (Transcending Obscurity)

Imagine John Zorn’s Naked City but energized by a growling metallic dynamo, Mr. Bungle’s first (Mr. Bungle) and latest (The Raging Wrath of the Easter Bunny Demo) albums fusing into one, Obscura-era Gorguts embracing saxophones and jazz, or Clown Core with less clown and extra (grind)core. ByoNoiseGenerator are all of that and somehow more: more brutal, more deranged, and more acute.

The Perm, Russia outfit’s third album Subnormal Dives packs everything from cybergrind (“NULL.state = PERMANENT; return VOID;”) and cosmic fusion (“IQ69Exaltations”) to unexpectedly romantic jazz (“LoveChargedDiveBombs”) into dozes so tight and potent that it all becomes almost unbearable as the aggressive closer “C16H25NO2EfficiencyRatio” rolls in on a wave of blast beats. You’ll want a post-coital cigarette after this one. – Antonio Poscic

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Cryptopsy – An Insatiable Violence (Season of Mist)

While their initial run of LPs from 1994 to 1998 significantly contributed to the sound we associate with brutal, slamming technical death metal, the career of Canadian stalwarts Cryptopsy has been marred by violent ups and downs. From the uninspired albums they released in the 2000s to the deathcore-evoking monstrosity that was 2008’s The Unspoken King, Cryptopsy became almost synonymous with inconsistency.

After a decade of discographical silence, at least in terms of full-lengths, 2023’s As Gomorrah Burns had already announced a rejuvenated group with a newfound purpose in their work. Now, An Insatiable Violence capitalizes on that promise. This is a vicious, mean, and lean album, its eight pieces a display of masterful brutality propelled by Flo Mounier’s octopus-on-PCP drumming style.

A part of this revitalization comes from Cryptopsy quite obviously taking a hint from contemporary powerhouses, embracing the bumbling, absurdly technical forms and breakneck tempo changes of Wormed (“The Nimis Adoration”) and even the symphonic traits and sense of hyper speed melodicism represented by Fleshgod Apocalypse (“Our Great Deception”). As the band weave through these styles, they remain nimble and focused, ultimately crafting a set of songs that are stronger than anything else they’ve produced in the past 25 years. – Antonio Poscic

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Deadguy – Near Death Travel Services (Relapse)

Saying that it is a tall task to follow up a record like Fixation on a Coworker is an understatement. Converge, Botch, and The Dillinger Escape Plan all owe a debt to Deadguy’s singular work. So, is it possible to capture the same magic, 30 years later? Near Death Travel Services strives to do so. If Fixation on a Coworker is a kick in the teeth, then Near Death Travel Services is the follow-up gut punch.

The anger is still brewing as “Kill Fee” arrives in a frenzy. Here, metallic influences are applied to hardcore structures, the riffs ooze with a razor-sharp quality (“The Forever People”), and the latent thrash tones fall into dissonance and disarray (“New Best Friend”). Yet, Deadguy operate on more levels. Beneath the poignant aggression, progressive-minded ideas can flourish (“The Alarmist”). The second half of “Kill Fee” makes this move abundantly clear, as the quasi-mathcore tendencies burst with energy.

The same methodology is applied over the rhythmic patterns of “Barn Burner”, tilting the whole endeavor toward an off-kilter procession. There is much of the post-hardcore DNA that finds its way here, from the likes of Today Is the Day and Unsane, to even Helmet and Fugazi. In that context, the sludge descents are natural, providing more grit and dirt to moments like “War With Strangers”. Topping it all off is once again the biting lyrical depth, leaving a bitter taste in “The Long Search for Perfect Timing” as the lines go from dark to hopeless (“The more I see, the less I feel, the more I dream the less I can dream…”).

Still, context matters, and this is not the same world as when Deadguy released their debut record. It is, therefore, unfair to expect something as groundbreaking as Fixation on a Coworker. Still, we got something quite jawbreaking with Near Death Travel Services, and maybe that is enough. – Spyros Stasis

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Devilpriest – Where I Am the Chalice, Be Though Blood (Nuclear Winter)

Formed by veterans of the Polish extreme metal scene, Devilpriest’s reign of terror started with a black/death assault in 2017’s Devil Inspired Chants. Their subsequent return after a five-year hiatus found them tapping more heavily into the death metal tradition, as showcased in their excellent sophomore release, In Repugnant Adoration, and continues today with Where I Am the Chalice, Be Though Blood.

This is introduced early on, as the uncanny precision results in a methodical beating with “He Is Me”. The drumming is a highlight, very economical in its chosen patterns, and that provides a harrowing drive. They exemplify the sense of control, as do the guitar leads, abstaining from a descent to Blasphemy’s chaos, even though there are times when they get close (“Enmity Against the Grace”).

Devilpriest’s new record builds upon two primary foundations. On one hand, there is the death metal basis that Morbid Angel introduce. “Dragon of Blasphemy” reveals the Azagthothian methodology, weaving its dark machinations over lead and solo parts and rhythmic structures. In that mode, they make a short transition to mid-era Behemoth’s fervency, particularly in terms of the grooves and demeanor, and incorporate touches of Belphegor’s blasphemous aesthetic.

The second pillar draws from the proto-death metal style, which is reflected in the lead and solo work. “Unwavering in the Left Hand Path” is an example of Seven Churches’ influence, while “SNEGTH IER ARNES” fuels its pacing from the heavy, mid-tempo groove of Slayer‘s early days. All in all, Where I Am The Chalice… is a solid work that stands on an established tradition, and does not look much further. – Spyros Stasis

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Drawn and Quartered – Lord of Two Horns (Nuclear Winter)

The music of Seattle, Washington’s death metallers Drawn and Quartered feels peculiarly atemporal. Around since 1992—initially in the form of guitarist Kelly Shane Kuciemba’s project Plague Bearer—they have remained impervious to the fickle nature of contemporary death metal currents. Instead, the latest album. Lord of Two Horns finds them in the same spot as 2012’s Feeding Hell’s Furnace and 2021’s Congregation Pestilence did, namely, once again revisiting the meaty and bombastic sound of the early 1990s, bringing to mind the likes of prime Immolation and Incantation.

I write revisiting, but despite their obvious stylistic origins, there is very little to this music that feels nostalgic or stuck in time. Instead, the eight cuts on the album brim with power and purpose, ripping relentlessly through scorchers like “Black Castle Butcher” and “Lord of Two Horns” with a sense of oppressive heaviness and mad zest that only increases as the album progresses. Like gold label whiskey, you really don’t want these things to change. – Antonio Poscic

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Haggus – Destination Extinction (Tankcrimes)

For the uninitiated, mincecore is a subgenre of grindcore coined by legendary Belgian band Agathocles in the 1980s. On the musical side, their music took things back to basics, doubling down on the primitive, punk-adjacent aspects of grindcore. On the ideological end, it made a hard left turn, renouncing misogyny, homophobia, and other forms of right-wing extremism in favor of antifascism and anarchism.

Considering the situation around us, we need the OG spirit of mincecore now more than ever. Yet, today the Oakland, California trio Haggus are one of the rare groups that remain true to Agathocles’ radical, politically-charged vision of mincecore. Destination Extinction, then, is their urgent screed. “When writing this album I really wanted to keep true to the genre’s roots and make our political beliefs and the things we protest very apparent (fascism, war, Israel, the meat industry, mindless over-consumption, homophobia, misogyny, the list goes on),” founder and frontman Hambone tells Kim Kelly in a recent interview.

In a sense, Destination Extinction is Haggus’ purest expression of mincecore to date, with the caveman-like power and simplicity of riffs, rhythms, and absolutely unintelligible singing arranged into catchy, absurdly fan romps. The music is so energetic that it wakes bodies and minds, whether with the accelerating cadences of “Rotting Off”, the twin-guitar attacks of “Bound By Realms of Cruelty”, or the brutal punk and hardcore sommersaults of “What’s Fucking Left?” and “As the Hammer Drops”. – Antonio Poscic

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Helms Deep – Chasing the Dragon (Nameless Grave)

Led by guitarist and vocalist Alex Sciortino, Helms Deep came away with the unlikely title of best trad heavy metal album of 2023—not a style you’d usually associate with the group’s native Florida. While the exquisite mixture of classic heavy metal styles, from NWOBHM to Euro power, showcased on their follow-up, Chasing the Dragon, is now less of a surprise, the fact that they manage to recapture the magic of their debut and escape the curse of the sophomore album remains baffling.

The gamut of styles encompassed by Chasing the Dragon is again ambitious, expanding from Iron Maiden-esque harmonies complete with Steve Harris-approved bass grooves to Judas Priest-influenced grimy speed metal, with touches of Satan, Diamond Head, and Savatage sprinkled along the way for flair. Throughout, the songs remain inspired. The music flows elegantly, demonstrating a natural, unencumbered songwriting style, while Sciortino hits soaring falsettos and poignant deep notes over a rumbling melange of thrashing riffs and elastic rhythms. Combine that with the obvious gusto in the instrumental performance, and we once again have one of the best heavy metal albums of the year. – Antonio Poscic

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Hexerei – Realms… (Sentient Ruin)

Finland’s Hexerei are firmly rooted in the primal tradition of black and death metal. Their debut, Ancient Evil Spirits, is steeped in this lineage—discordant lead work, chaotic structures, and lo-fi production fueling the ritualistic devastation. No wonder Sentient Ruin re-released in 2022 and is now releasing Hexerei’s sophomore effort, Realms… Catastrophe arrives as Hexerei channel an elemental fury on “Omenstorm of Eucharist Massacre”. There is little structure to be found here, just a stream of continuous riffs, howling screams, and erratic drumming projected for maximum impact. 

Barbarity remains the guiding force, with Hexerei leaning hard into sheer velocity and unrelenting aggression. Tracks like “Across the Realm of Blood” and “Skinless Prophecies Ablaze” escalate the assault, each riff a detonation, each transition a deeper plunge into chaos. There are no breaks to be found here, no respite. What further elevates the unworldliness of this procedure is the discordant guitar lead, which on the surface carries the Blasphemy aura. Dig beneath the surface, and a twisted heavy metal spirit emerges, closer to Negative Plane and Spirit Possession than Blasphemy’s brute force.

The other fundamental gear is the production, which nicely encapsulates the black/death chaos, but also plunges the world into shadow. This is particularly apparent in “The Sabbath Red” when the martial procession takes over, and the ending of “Skinless Prophecies Ablaze” carries into the corrosive, freeform motifs of “Corda Plena Inferus Gloria”. It’s a welcome gear shift—freeform yet still corrosive—that brings the record to a close without losing its polemical edge. Realms… is not a reinvention, but a vivid continuation of black/death’s most harrowing tradition. – Spyros Stasis

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Hexvessel – Nocturne (Prophecy)

Hexvessel have transformed many times through the years. From the neofolk beginnings to psychedelic and progressive rock manifestations, all the way to 2023’s blackened evolution in Polar Veil. Nocturne, its counterpart, is marked by a “negative” inversion of Polar Veil‘s artwork, a visual cue to its lineage. This kinship seeps into the auditory dimension with the opener “Sapphire Zephyrs,” whose traditional, amorphous black metal riffing fills the void. The spirit of Ulver looms large, guiding the melancholic, otherworldly textures that blend acoustic folk passages (“Concealed Descent”) with violent black metal flares echoing Nattens Madrigal (“Sapphire Zephyrs”).

Elsewhere, Nocturne draws in the slithering pace of doom (“Inward Landscape”) and the discordant angularity of Ved Buens Ende (“Unworld”), all woven into Hexvessel’s longstanding neofolk sensibility. What works great here is the record’s relaxed pacing. There is confidence in the way Kvhost and company let the songs breathe, weaving their acoustic interludes and layered instrumentation. The violin parts in “Phoebus” elevate the track to its grand and moving final form.

Still, I find specific extensions slightly hinder the compositions. The combination of black metal and neofolk is spectacular in moments like “Mother Destroyer” and “A Dark Graceful Wilderness”. The latter is a highlight, with mournful black metal riffs coupled with neofolk narration, a motif that preserves the lineage of both genres. However, the switch to the minimal, processional outro feels a bit superfluous. While rare, these moments keep the record just shy of the upper echelon of folk-informed black metal. However, even with its minor flaws, Nocturne remains an enticing listen. – Spyros Stasis

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Mizmor – Mnemonic (Profound Lore)

According to an interview and the Gilead Media documentary (which I highly recommend you watch), Mizmor was born in a time of spiritual and personal struggle. Their first record, composed by sole member A.L.N., was shaped as a series of prayers, infusing the music with a raw, transcendental charge. Many years have now passed, and Mizmor have traversed the drone, doom, and black metal landscapes, amassing a substantial discography. Mnemonic: Ambient Mosaic returns to this origin, stripping away the structural aspects of early Mizmor and focusing on the atmosphere.

Mnemonic is a minimal work, relying on deep, booming drones to conjure its darkest ambiance (“I”) and to provide a sense of mystery (“IX”). Delays and echoes are applied, stretching the time dimension and making things appear as if they are arriving in reverse (“III”). The effect is haunting, especially when a deconstructed vocal delivery is applied (“VIII”). It is one of the few familiar and humane sounds A.L.N. features, the other being the guitar.

The guitar becomes a multi-purpose instrument—sometimes a percussive anchor, as in “I”, other times a central melodic source, as in “V”, evoking a bizarro soundtrack for an alternate black-and-white Paris, Texas. This is Mnemonic’s allure and strength, and it mirrors the side projects and solo work of Neurosis members when compared to their main band. The compositions here are abstracted ideas, skeletal frameworks of what could have been the material for a Mizmor record. In this way, it reveals the bare bones, lower level of the project.

For dedicated listeners, Mnemonic offers a rare, stripped-back look into Mizmor’s subterranean architecture. Casual listeners may find its minimalism impenetrable, but for those attuned to its frequency, it’s a deeply meditative descent. – Spyros Stasis

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Necromantic Worship – Necromantic Worship (Nuclear War Now!)

Wearing your primary influence on your sleeve is a bold move—one that invites scrutiny. However, Necromantic Worship rise to the challenge. Tracing their obscure origins to the mid-2010s, the Dutch act conjured Necromantia’s dark ethos in full force with two bass guitars and an infernal atmosphere. Silently disappearing after two demos, they reformed in 2023 and are now finally releasing their self-titled debut.

The vampiric black metal of old is alive and kicking, as the primal darkness escapes “The Tempering of Erevos” through its subharmonic frequencies. This mode is best served in short bursts, making “Malicious Paradise” one of the most potent offerings. Immediate and poignant, the bass guitars add to the addictive groove while maintaining the vulgar and nasty demeanor. The further enhancements in choirs and keyboards contribute not only to the ambiance but also to momentum.

On top of this primal drive, Necromantic Worship also establish the thick oppressive veil propagated through Necromantia’s early works. The demonic atmosphere is harrowing, built through keyboards and stitched together with samples to ease the descent. The mid-point of “The Tempering of Erevos” evokes Hammer Horror at its most serious, while “Into the Haunted Crypt” conjures an infernal setting through minimal keys, sparse bass lines, and demonic vocals.

From there, tapping into the dark ambient space is easy, and moments like “The Offering” or the “Rub — Al – Khali” outro display these sinister invocations. Ritual remains important, seeping into the structure of “Nightmare Visions of the Nameless City”, exploding through the over-the-top organ sounds as the voice echoes, “They are calling me”. Final touches, in the well-placed and expressive guitar solos, forge a connection to the heavy metal lineage —a trait just as vital to Necromantia as it is to Mortuary Drape and Varathron, which adds a sinister yet delicious twist. So the worship ends successfully. Now we wait for an answer from the other side. What have they awakened? – Spyros Stasis

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Obsidian Scapes – Death Chants Echo From Aphotic Void (Darkness Shall Rise)

Earlier in 2025, Obsidian Scapes provided the first specimen of their apocalyptic doom metal in their self-titled EP, which featured “Endless Sea of Dead Mirrors” and a surprising Sigh cover. The German act produced a curious amalgamation that is now further exposed in Death Chants Echo From Aphotic Void. One part of the foundation thrives in the extreme side of doom, moving a space akin to funeral doom.

The ritualistic pace is the first signal, where “The Pettiness of Life” combines active drums with glacial guitar riffs to create a harrowing ambiance. Obsidian Scapes are apt in working this space, at times weaving melodies toward a blackened perspective (“Endless Sea of Dead Mirrors”) or pushing toward the psychedelic, where audio effects create a dizzying and otherworldly manifestation (“Despise Everything”).

While they incorporate elements of various genres, such as some death metal harshness (“The Pettiness of Life”), post-metallic grandeur (“Trapped In Equilibrium”), or even blackened bitterness (“My Utter Contempt for the Sun”), their most defining move is toward traditional doom. This is first unveiled with the vocal delivery, a clean, larger-than-life performance. More grandiose than harsh, it awakens an epic sensibility. It is somewhat unexpected, but it yields some over-the-top moments in “Endless Sea of Dead Mirrors”, where it delves deep for an emotional payoff.

Then it is the 1970s twist, evoking a Sabbath-ian demeanor in “Despise Everything” and “My Utter Contempt for the Sun” that completes the picture. It is where Obsidian Scapes thrive, and while there are moments in Death Chants Echo From Aphotic Void where the slower segments feel a bit hollow, the record rarely loses its grip. The band still craft their vision, and it is one of grandeur and gloom. With their full-length, they have summoned something weird and punishing, a dense record to be listened to under ashen skies. – Spyros Stasis

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Patristic – Catechesis (Willowtip)

While taking inspiration from the Roman Empire has become a red flag in recent years, the side project of Hideous Divinity’s guitarist Enrico Schettino seems more interested in transporting the listener into the turbulent period between the fall of the Empire and rise of Christianity than transposing the era onto our present as an unfortunate and misplaced Western ideal. The project’s name alludes to this, symbolizing the study of early Christian theologians known as the Church Fathers.

Joined by vocalist LS, drummer Sathrath, and bassist TV, Schettino turns the music on Catechesis into a boa constrictor whose very nature forces it to wrap around your neck. Each track thus becomes a noose made out of riffs, blast beats, and growls, with strands of brutal blackened death metal gripping tighter and tighter as you feel your mind’s skeleton break. Here, even string arrangements become threatening, the nervous flutter of their staccato bows announcing the imminent explosion of crushing Second Wave riffing.

Throughout, Catechesis appears as a rumbling, barbarous beast, diving into bleak misery on the two-parter “A Vinculis Soluta” and motoring with conviction and abandon through the anxiety-inducing four movements of  “Catechesis”. What a debut! – Antonio Poscic

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Skinhead – It’s a Beautiful Day, What a Beautiful Day (Closed Casket Activities)

From Skinhead’s very beginning, mainman Joshua Long combined hardcore’s raw energy with an underlying melodic inclination. While both the Skinhead EP and Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt carried this balance, Skinhead’s new record. It’s a Beautiful Day, What a Beautiful Day, drives harder on the melodic edge. The impact is immediate as “45’s” melodic lines take over, and they carry throughout the record. There is always an emotional tone associated with the melody, and it tilts the entire endeavor toward a post-hardcore paradigm (“Ancient History”).

Regardless, the foundation is deeply rooted in the traditional hardcore lineage. “Chuck’s” D-beat progression showcases as much, while the rhythmic patterns complement the melodic flourishes (“Dreams”). Gang vocals give a street-punk flavor (“That’s a Promise”) and metallic chugging adds weight (“Everything Is Stories”), completing the picture, while the constant sardonic outlook drips caustic wisdom. Take “Kill Yourself” and its escalating levels as the story unfolds. It hits hard, but a refreshing ire and dark humor stabilize it, preventing it from tilting toward utter despair.

In the same way, Long balances the entire record as a cohesive offering of hardcore tradition, melodic (dare I say post-hardcore) notions, and strong narrative prose. At just around 20 minutes, it’s a modern take on classic forms — imagine Good Clean Fun filtered through contemporary production. It’s raw, smart, and worth keeping on repeat. – Spyros Stasis

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Stygian Ruin – Stygia II: Ancient and Arcane (Independent)

It might be a stretch to call anything related to black metal unique in 2025, but the music of Stygian Ruin certainly comes close to qualifying. The project helmed by Norwegian musician Erlend Rønning evolved from dungeon synth into black metal that is simultaneously atmospherically expansive and rhythmically pulsating, replete with ambient music-evoking cues and the nervous trill of guitar tremolos fusing into a strangely oneiric vision of the genre.

A shimmer of electronic textures envelops melodic riffs and blast beats, delicately like mist descending upon a forest’s clearing. In its midst, a lyrical fantasy is delivered with a dramatic, almost Sprechgesang flair. Listening to Stygia II: Ancient and Arcane, bands like Virus, Agalloch, Secrets of the Moon, and even Aluk Todolo—thanks to passages of motorik dynamism—occasionally come to mind, but the mixture of black metal tropes delivered at andante pace carve out a niche of their own and form an album that is both a great entrypoint into Stygian Ruin’s discography and the culmination of their work so far. – Antonio Poscic

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Thanatorean – Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents (I, Voidhanger)

Fresh blood on the avant-garde black metal playfield is always welcome, especially if it brings with it intoxicating, mind-warping incantations like Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents. Formed by mainstays of the Polish black metal scene, Cultum Interitum’s mysterious E (vocals) and Ars Magna Umbrae’s Petros Xolaiathyos alias Kthunae Mortifer (everything else), Thanatorean play a disorienting meld of dissonant, vaguely atmospheric black metal and the genre’s rawer tendencies, scintillating between orthodox and avant traditions.

The tracks practice restrained melodicism (“Thrice-Hexed”), unrestrained fury (“De Profundis”), and aimless chaos (“In Reverent Throes”), all the while oozing with sickly, all-permeating darkness. This sort of determination and clarity of vision is rarely seen even in much more seasoned outfits, let alone one that was created just a year ago. – Antonio Poscic

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Vauruvã – Mar de Deriva (Independent)

In Caio Lemos’s exponentially growing discography, Vauruvã stands as his most emotionally melodic and expressive project to date. Starting from the raw, folk-tinged improvisations of Manso Queimor Dacordado, the project embraced a wild sense of unpredictability in Por Nós da Ventania before transforming once again with Mar de Deriva. Surprisingly, the structure now prevails, steering the project away from its free-form origins and toward a more mature progressive rock sound.

“Legado” with its meditative progression opens a cosmic dimension. Traditional percussion and acoustic guitars combine in a spiraling vision through the Milky Way. That mystical perspective persists—serene craftsmanship carries “Os Caçadores” even after distorted guitars explode into brilliant color. The melodic quality lends the album a cinematic scope.

The sorrowful tones of “Legado” arrive in intimate fashion, but Lemos still allows a hopeful essence to pierce through. Here, the black metal is reworked to fit a progressive rock approach. The result is a rough yet melodic timbre. It carries Krallice’s DNA, even drawing from Scarcity in how the instrument is stretched to its limits. The result is epic, with the beginning of the closer “As Selvas Vermelhas no Planeta dos Eminentes” tearing your heart out with its moving lines. Given the current black metal landscape and its dissonant tendencies, it is refreshing to see Vauruvã adopt this approach without turning it into a gimmick.

They do not stop there. Their folk inclinations remain strong, drawing on Panopticon’s fusion of Americana and black metal as a blueprint and reformulating it through the lens of Brazilian folk traditions. The additional percussion and the synthesizers come together to carve out a sense of wonder and grace from the black metal and progressive rock stones. The result is an exquisite effort, dense, detailed, and emotionally resonant. An absolute gem, both heartfelt and compositionally daring, it marks a new chapter in Vauruvã’s evolving language. – Spyros Stasis

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I was still trying to get my head around Turnstile’s new album when I happened upon a cover story on the band. Quinn Batley’s photo captures the members from a low angle, the sun glowing behind them, either setting or rising. Lightly psychedelic, it could be a classic LP cover from Columbia or Fantasy in the late 1960s, from an early Moby Grape, Creedence Clearwater Revival, or Byrds album. Except Turnstile are in Baltimore, not California, they’re perched on the gravel embankment of the Northeast Corridor rail line. An Amtrak train cuts across the frame from right to left behind them, and two-fifths of the band are looking off into the distance, either where the train came from or where it’s heading.

I know, it’s not the band’s own photo—the minimalist cover of Never Enough, akin to the pink-and-white clouds that graced Glow On, their breakout album from three years ago, is a washed-out wedge of a double rainbow on a sky-blue background. The music inside lies somewhere between the working man’s folk-rock earnestness of that bygone California era and the synth-washed ambience of the actual cover. While it may not make sense for Amtrak to embody the bedrock of the Turnstile sound, the national railroad company created in the 1970s is somehow fitting for a band that continues to bridge the gap between the DC and Baltimore music scenes on an album recorded in SoCal.

While a train is probably not the first thing I’d associate with a hardcore punk band, it’s certainly a lot closer than the jet-ski that opens both the video for “Never Enough” and the band’s video album, directed by front-man Brendan Yates and lead guitarist Pat McCrory and currently playing in movie theaters across the country. It’s a jarring, if not actively disturbing, image to begin the record: Yates isolated in midframe against an empty expanse of ocean, an icon of conspicuously empty, gas-guzzling, and noise-polluting consumption.

New guitarist Meg Mills (who joined Turnstile after the album was recorded) is introduced in a snow-bound wilderness next to her isolated vehicle; bassist Franz Lyons, popping out of an anonymous crowd in a gaudily-colored jacket, is suitably ignored by the passersby as a Black man among white commuters; McCrory rips off chords in a richly saturated green field; drummer Daniel Fang sits alone in the desert, the multiple components of his kit and some empty chairs the only hint of collectivity.

It’s a salutary reminder that the music video is not only a genre of advertising but also a distinct form of music-making. It’s a challenge to us, as well as to the band, to decide whether the album’s and the lead song’s title embraces the consumption run rampant that punk so often rails against or evokes the unfulfilled—and often unfulfillable—desires into which punk has always channeled its youthful energies.

Given that Turnstile, whose popularity unexpectedly exploded with their genre-bending 2022 release, Glow On, recorded Never Enough in a state-of-the-art Laurel Canyon studio, the Mansion (a process lovingly and joyously documented in several of the non-singles on the album video), this seems a pressing question. It’s a question they both resolve and leave hanging throughout Never Enough’s pulsating 45-minute duration, pogoing thrillingly between monstrously pounding hardcore and ambient, house, sound effects, and pretty much anything else one can imagine.

There’s no clear breakdown between the embracing community the band laud in the Baltimore and DC hardcore scenes they came up in and the cloistered pop royalty to which they now belong—featured guests on the album include cell Devonté Hynes aka Blood Orange (cello and additional vocals on several tracks), Shabaka (the extended flute outro on “Seein’ Stars”), and additional vocals by Paramore‘s Hayley Williams, Faye Webster, and others.

Instead, Never Enough challenges us to hold these scenes together as we parse our own desires for both, creating ample space at once to reflect on our choices and to lose ourselves in the music, body-surfing their collective spirit. They may have gone to the UK for a new guitarist and to California to find the space to create this LP, but they nonetheless cling fast to the hardscrabble city and music scenes in which they continue to live.

In addition to its studios and its pop-rock history, Southern California also offers an extraordinarily varied set of landscapes, from the surf to the slopes to the desert, native splendor that has been molded by human actors for millennia. The epic sweep of these landscapes lends a visual breadth to the album that is echoed in the musical palette. Where Glow On thrived on its contrasting textures and tempos, Never Enough weaves them together into charged conversations.

Shabaka’s flute emerges out of the 94 intensely thrashing initial seconds of “Sunshower”, in which “I can’t feel a fuckin’ thing” becomes not a scream of numbness but an expression of joy and presence: “And this is where I wanna be.” Turnstile play in the pouring rain, and it’s clear that the power of the moment comes not just from the pounding water or the fluting sun, but from the inter-reliance enunciated in the title.

“Sunshower” is the second track in the extended six-song suite at the record’s core. It opens in the emotional isolation of “Dull”, peaks in “Look Out for Me”, the longest track they’ve ever done, and opens out into the inspired pairing (back in the day we would have called it the double A-side) of “Seein’ Stars” and “Birds”. “Dull” is set in a plush bedroom, with an 1980s-style beige touchtone office phone centered on a square table. The walls are covered from floor to ceiling with stuffed animals in an installation by Washington, DC, publisher, artist, and musician John Scharbach (a similar installation provides the set for Turnstile’s 2022 Tiny Desk concert).

In the video, the walls are blown out in slow motion, a visually gorgeous, sonically powerful burst of creative destruction that echoes Pink Floyd‘s The Wall along with countless high-tech slo-mo action scenes and also speaks to hardcore’s signature tough-tender utopian cynicism. Especially when the touchtone-dialed outro interiority of “Dull” explodes into the outdoor, rain-drenched performance of “Sunshower”.

The ringing guitar notes that open out of the flute to burst into the multiple textures of “Look Out for Me” shift Turnstile forcefully back to Baltimore and that same old Volvo station wagon we glimpsed snow-bound with Meg Mills in “Never Enough”. However, now it’s the setting for a couple of multiracial and multigenerational family groups to pile into before the camera cuts to an empty Wyman Park Dell, Yates singing on his own from the driver’s seat: “We’re standing in a line to disappear.”

There’s a glimpse of figures running through the woods surrounding the Dell, replaced by a synth wash leading into the three-minute outro introduced by DJ/singer/rapper/actor/producer Maestro Harrell voicing his character Randy Wagstaff’s dialogue from The Wire that gives the song its title: “You gonna look out for me? / You promise? / You got my back?” In season four’s climactic scene, the young teenage Randy both pleads with and accuses the Black police officer who had placed him in a foster home and promised to see him through his troubled adolescence.

As a house beat slowly builds over the synths, the Volvo drives down the street, and an unmarked black van pulls up behind it, lights flashing. It’s the closest the album gets to an overtly political commentary, channeling the 2015 killing of Freddie Gray in the back of a Baltimore police van, the inner-city violence of The Wire, and the current snatching of community members off the streets by unmarked, plainclothes ICE officers.

The song’s fading siren segues into the brief piano-flecked interlude of “Ceiling”, reverbed vocals plaintively singing “at the ceiling” before more of McCrory’s ringing guitar, sounding even closer to Andy Summers’, and Yates’s vocals, channeling Sting, break out the pop-R&B of “Seein’ Stars”. We could almost be in a lost Police song of the 1980s: “I fold / I fold / I fold.” However, the rhythm section is too heavy and too soulful, and the plangent guitar break just too emotionally resonant for the Police. Plus, the guest vocals from Hynes and Williams remind us we’re not listening to a New Wave trio; we’re in an indie-pop community in 2025.

That’s even more evident when “Birds” follows, a standout on a strong album. “Birds” packs at least three different songs into its pulsating two-and-a-half minutes. There’s the nearly minute-long drone segue out of “Seein’ Stars”, which the video brilliantly pairs with Fang’s foot pummeling the high-hat pedal over scattered percussion, building visual tension before the guitar and then drums finally explode into 30 seconds of the fastest thrash on the album, Yates shout-chanting “And you are free, free, free, free, free, free / No one left to be, be, be, be, be, be, be,” and the band letting loose on the rainbow-colored outdoor stage that witnesses nearly all of the truly collective moments throughout the album.

However, rather than another meditative outro, “Birds” shifts again, changing the tempo as bass and drums lock into a headbanging, pulse-pounding groove, and audience members dive gleefully into the crowd. Yates then bruisingly repeats, “Finally, I can see it / These birds are not meant to fly alone.” Given the mountains in the background, I’m presuming we’re back in SoCal, Turnstile expanding their reach along with its sound. This track, uniquely on the album, stops on a dime, into a brief silence, as the record winds down with the mid-tempo hardcore “Slowdive” (“sink into the feeling”), the melodic, melancholy pop-punk anthem “Time Is Happening” (“Circle back again / Lost my only friend”), and the enigmatic, synth-saturated ballad “Magic Man“.

That last pair wouldn’t have been out of place on the West Coast, either: the former borrows from late 1960s hippie-garage-pop and the latter, of course, bears the title of the debut single from the Wilson sisters’ Seattle-based band Heart, which pairs hard-rock guitars with a mini-Moog breakdown. However, perhaps the most intriguing shout-out on the album goes to the San Francisco-based Grateful Dead‘s 1972 benefit concert for the Kesey family dairy in Veneta, Oregon.

Although Deadheads versed in the acid-rock shredding of the band’s late 1960s live sets know better, the Dead still seem an unlikely touchstone here. Yet, the video of “Birds” opens on a colorful, long-haired guy blissfully dancing atop a scaffolding stage, right, precisely the spot where the guy Deadheads for decades have known as “naked pole guy” blissfully dances throughout “Bird Song” atop a stand of speakers. “I don’t know, but I believe / I found a song playing just for me,” Yates sings to open “Birds”.

What Turnstile describe about hardcore: “There’s a community that will check it out and have people support each other. … an open-minded place where people can just start a band and right away have a show and express yourself” (Fang, in Thrasher Magazine, 2017). “It’s like a universal vehicle you can drive no matter what; there’s no rules” (Lyons, in Thrasher Magazine, 2017); “There’s a freedom … As long as you’re singing about something you really care about, the audience will be able to listen and understand” (McCrory, in Hypebeast, 2023)—could just as well speak to, and may well have been cultivated by, the culture around the Dead and their shows. After all, “Birds” was one of three songs from Never Enough that the band previewed at a free concert in May at Baltimore’s Wyman Park Bandshell to raise money for the local charity “Health Care for the Homeless”.

“Bird Song” was written by Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter in memory of their close friend Janis Joplin (“All I know is something like a bird within her sang / All I know she sang a little while and then flew on”); it’s both mourning and joyful, a celebration of life and a recognition of the costs of living it. “I was told that love and death go hand in hand / When you find, is when you understand,” sings Yates on “Birds”, establishing an alternate lineage of pop music that cultivates community while preserving space for individual freedom and deep emotion. It’s a respite from the dull pressures and sharp torments of everyday life. Unlike those isolating moments in the opening of “Never Enough”, it’s meant to be sustaining and life-giving.

Still, Turnstile wisely change up any simple equations across the record, resisting any reduction of the hardcore moments to authenticity in contrast to the shallow and consumptive desires of commercial pop. After all, the video album features Mills throughout, even though she didn’t play on the album and presumably is not playing in the “studio” sequences, even though she is playing when the videos feature live performances.

I grew up during the genre-policing days of the 1960s and 1970s, when there was still such a thing as “selling out”. Disco was burned by rock DJs, and punks had to pretend they had grown up hating pop music. It’s refreshing that bands like Turnstile can openly embrace the cross-pollination that has always nurtured pop and indie music, regardless of their relationship to the mainstream. However, that doesn’t mean the questions raised by commercialism, fame, and selling out have disappeared. It just means bands and musicians have more tools available to them to try to make sense of them.

Turnstile’s public image and performance styles range from the recurring open-air, live-performance mosh pit in the visual album to the candy-striped backdrop to the telephone that opens “Dull” on that album, as also the Tonight Show performance of “I Care / Dull” that would not have been out of place in the glory days of Top of the Pops, Ed Sullivan, or Dick Clark. Lyons and Mills certainly would have been out of place, though. (Still, Sly and the Family Stone did appear on the more liberal Dick Cavett Show in 1970 performing “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)“—no wonder they merited a shout on Glow On’s “TLC (Turnstile Love Connection).”)

On The Tonight Show, Yates sports a moptop hairstyle and a zip-up turtleneck to complete the late 1960s pop vibe channeled by the jangly intro of “I Care”. Similarly, Lyons and Mills may be talented musicians; they’re also über-stylish eye candy. Compare this video to Turnstile’s appearance three years earlier, singing “Blackout” from Glow On, where everything about them screams straightforward power-punk, and it’s unmistakably live.

In “I Care/Dull”, the matching headphones work to persuade us they’re not actually lip-syncing, even as it’s hard to avoid that impression, especially in the power chords of the chorus. However, those headsets also neatly translate the isolation of the video for “Dull” into the context of a live-in-studio performance—the video-album track films them recording, headphone-clad, in the studio. They want to be safe and dangerous at the same time, or else they will eventually collapse the categories altogether, as they do with the set installation in the “Dull” video.

Doubtless, Turnstile know it’s never as simple as deconstructing binaries or exploding the goods that isolate them; they clearly want the resources available from stardom and embrace the role of pop icons. However, they equally clearly want just as much to carry with them into prosperity the rough-and-tumble local scenes that nurtured them into existence.

“The Greatest City in America” reads the stencil on a bench along the Baltimore street that “Look Out for Me” opens on. After decades of threading the needle, the Dead finally foundered on their refusal to give up the touring that supported their massive ‘family’ and their myriad fans, as they finally foundered in the arenas they were forced to play in when their following got too big, the drug culture that enabled the playing, and the world of pop music they saw as ever more corporatized.

How long Turnstile can balance on the edge they’ve found and where they’ve been thriving since Glow On remains to be seen; I hope they’re able to enjoy riding the wave as much as we will.