Location: Flanders, Belgium
Subgenre: blackgaze

August was good to all of us who work in the Bandcamp blackgaze mines. Bountiful. Maybe a little overwhelming. Case in point: Stygian Love’s “Take Me In” would have been my personal pick for #1 in plenty of other months; in this month, however, I’ve written about three songs, and this one finds itself walking away with the bronze. Still, it sounds like gold.

There’s an inevitable Sadness reference to be made here, and that influence is apparent within… 30 seconds of the first note being played? Something like that. Basically, it hits as soon as you hear the first cymbal crash. That right there is a Damián Ojeda signature “here it comes” cymbal crash. “Take Me In” glides in on a sound much like the one you hear when Sadness goes epic: those mountainous, billowing, beautiful gusts. But where Sadness operate on a limitless plane with no boundaries or tethers, Stygian Love find a way to make those same sounds even bigger by containing them in a smaller space. It’s like clouds in a cathedral rather than clouds in the sky.

Still, there’s more to Stygian Love than a simple Sadness comparison. After its initial burst, “Take Me In” moves elegantly from blackgaze to… shoegaze? I guess they’re sorta the same thing now? But I digress. Without noticing anything has changed, you find yourself in waters first charted by My Bloody Valentine on Loveless; an ethereal bath of gentle distortion and helium breeze. At other points, it takes different turns, evinces different faces as seen from different angles. You can hear strains of Viking-era Bathory, as well as the delicate, whispery grandeur of such intensely refined funeral-doom artists as Ahab. And more. (Hell, that plinky piano could be on a Ghost record, if you squint hard enough.) And yet, for all its leaps in different directions, “Take Me In” has a strong melodic center, a steady sense of direction, almost a narrative arc. It feels seamless and satisfying. It’s an outstanding piece of composition. Performance, too.

Stygian Love is an anonymous artist from Belgium who goes only by the initial G, and “Take Me In” is the opening track on their new four-song record, Solace… It’s the debut release from Stygian Love (I don’t know a single thing about G and I probably never will), and I’d be lying if I said any of the other three songs here are on quite the same level as “Take Me In.” It’s almost as if G finished “Take Me In,” and immediately (and correctly) realized it was great, so he rushed it into the world with three other demos that hadn’t been developed to the same degree. Even so, there’s a goddamn ton in those rawer, less-polished tracks that excites the hell out of me, maybe even more so – there’s just so much to dream on. “Take Me In,” meanwhile, sounds like a dream realized, or maybe just a dream. [From Solace…, out now via the artist.] –Michael Nelson

Location: ???
Subgenre: atmospheric black metal

Violet Cold’s Empire of Love was one of the best metal albums of 2021, an awe-inspiring missive from an imperfect future where planetary and personal existential dramas play out against a surreal backdrop. The theme of struggle for individuality and humanity against prevailing powers coursed through Empire of Love – and graced its cover – and Violet Cold’s recent work seems particularly suited to cinematically render life-affirming beauty and hope amidst chaos. “Shazam The Void” picks up where Empire of Love left off, with massive, crashing waves of searing guitars and synths guiding sad, resolute melodies into alien sunsets. Eastern instrumentation and an earworm vocal sample heighten feelings of displacement, remnants of a relinquished past as a rocket tears away. Emin Guliyev, who has conjured worlds of magic and melancholy as Violet Cold for nearly a decade, left the artistically repressive Azerbaijan in recent years, and he continues to inhabit these worlds of wonder from wherever he physically resides. [From Shazam The Void, out now via the band.] –Wyatt Marshall

Location: ???
Subgenre: atmospheric black metal

Müür’s gray haze seeps in like a fog and steadily consumes all in sight, layering dreary malaise onto an already bleak boggy landscape. You can find beauty in this desolation, and Müür channel it through melancholy melodies of palpable regret and loss, while screams that are equally parts howled and barked beg to be heard from beneath. There’s a hypnotic quality at work on “Grief Ascension (Amaranthine Flame),” a mix of Paysage d’Hiver blurred riffage and woodsy reverence that takes hold, smothers, and clings tight over a surprisingly quick 18 minutes. As the song progresses, aggravation grows, struggling to break free through the oppressive dread atmosphere before falling back into the murk from which it rose. With no one claiming credit for Müür’s work there’s not much context to offer, though Metal-Archives will tell you its name translates from the Dutch word “Muur” to “Wall.” With little to hold onto, the project is as mysterious as the mental image it conjures. [From Grief Ascension, out now via the band.] –Wyatt Marshall

Location: Taito, Japan
Subgenre: blackgaze

Japan probably doesn’t get enough burn for its place in blackgaze. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it the genre’s birthplace, but it has some legitimate claim to that title: As much is owed to Envy as is owed to Alcest in terms of the music as we hear it today.

It’s not just Envy. Asunojokei, from the city of Taito, formed in 2014, and over the last half-decade have been one of the huger blackgaze acts on Bandcamp – and therefore, in the world. And as Asunojokei’s profile has grown, so has their sound. I got hip to them on 2018’s Awakening, their excellent debut album, and I included their most recent record, the Wishes EP, on my list of 2020’s best releases. The Asunojokei that made those records was a fucking killer band. The Asunojokei that made this new record, however, sounds like the band that ate that first band.

The new record in question is called Island; it’s Asunojokei’s second full-length, and to be honest, I hate that I chose to write about it, because you know what? You can’t write shit when this beast is in your headphones just ripping it the fuck up. I’m not really joking. I literally have to stop the record in order to collect myself and type this shit. I don’t even know how to write about it. Like, I gotta single out one song to pull for you guys? Gimme a break. There are 11 songs here. They’re all different from one another, and they all do different things, aside from the fact that they all shred like fuck. Pick any one of these songs, it doesn’t matter: As soon as it hits, your whole horrified face will burst into flames and your skull will be reduced to black ash. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard another record that is both this exhilarating and this exhausting. I’m telling you, you will get the best sleep of your life after spending the better part of an hour in this rainbow-cloud-tornado weather event. It’s got the high-variance peaks and valleys found on the big-dog blackgaze albums, except here, every time you think you’ve reached a peak, you soon discover it’s not the actual peak, and it is possibly, in fact, a valley. It just goes so hard, so high, and it does not stop.

The thing that immediately separates Asunojokei from 99.9% of all blackgaze is: This is a full band – not a bedroom outfit – and the musicians in this band are powerhouses. Outside of Deafheaven and Astronoid, it’s pretty hard to find anybody in this style who does it like this: just mammoth hotshots at every position, all of them playing so fucking tight that you’re thrown into a manic frenzy, speaking in tongues and running into walls and whatnot. Asunojokei fucking slay, dude. I’m sayin’! They do not stop!

Island does a lot of things like Deafheaven, in fact – particularly Deafheaven on Sunbather and New Bermuda. Island might be … as good as those albums, too? Feels weird to say that, but I’m not sure I have another option, unless I wanna take a perjury charge. But nah, I can’t lie to you guys. This is the goods. This is a big, big sound, and a big, big album. It is here expressly to level you and levitate you and leave you back on the goddamn ground, sputtering and speechless. If you think you have a choice in the matter, just…try it. Just try it! See how that goes for you.

You can start by pressing play on the song I’ve chosen to feature here. It’s called “Heavenward,” and it opens Island. I can’t say for sure that it’s my favorite song on the album, but it’s definitely one of my 11 favorites, and as the opening number, it kicks down the door for everything else to rush in. And not just the door – it also kicks so much ass. [From Island, out now via the band.] –Michael Nelson

Location: Alberta, Canada
Subgenre: blackened death metal

Wake hit like an absolute maelstrom, and their new album Thought Form Descent delivers some of the tightest, most intricate and heavy hitting tracks you’ll hear this year. “Infinite Inward” kicks off the album, and it’s got everything that put “Beyond Empyrean” from their last album Confluence at the top of our November 2020 list. Multi-geared, grinding riffs, disorienting batteries of drums, crushing hits, and meticulous melodic underpinnings combine into a mille-feuille of blackened death that reveals more with each successive cut. A constant blast of technical excellence shoots from start to finish across Wake’s works, but it’s how this beam of black energy plays into a vast, immersive mix that really sets Wake apart. Everything just feels huge with Wake, and as “Infinite Inward” movies forward you marvel at things like the carousel of vocals that growl and shout and howl, the innumerable gear shifts, and the feeling of following into bottomless atmosphere. It’s a marvel of musicianship, production, and ambition, and Wake have only continued to accelerate on Thought Form Descent. [From Thought Form Descent, out now via Metal Blade Records.] –Wyatt Marshall

Location: Los Angeles, CA
Subgenre: death metal

Remember Harlequin? Last year, I covered Deep Throat, the live compilation issued by Transylvanian Recordings. “There’s just something about recordings of live death metal that, when it works, it really works,” I wrote. “At its best, a good live recording harnesses the messy, live-wire spark of real musicians really playing in the real world and uses it to propel the band to new heights.”

The subtext of that blurb was that if Harlequin brought any of that energy to the studio, they would deliver a winner. Nearly a year later, here’s the trophy: Origin Of Suffering, the Los Angeles trio’s second album. Standout “3120” sounds just as energetically unhinged as it did on Deep Throat. A live wire? Yeah, in the sense that it feels like an electrocution, sending a million volts of grinding death metal through your body.

Harlequin is partly powered by its performances. Take “Trapanrot,” a prime example of the overall enslayment. Think if Dying Fetus descended into the rug-burns-on-a-face delirium of Deicide’s Legion. Tawney Arredondo’s vocals take center stage because, I mean, listen to them. They’re what a chipmunk hears before an eagle eats it. Rachel Solis’ roars add depth and dimension, underlining Arredondo’s killer highs with guttural rumbles. The two have the same interplay instrumentally. Arredondo’s guitar shred is kinetic, bouncing between extreme styles. Solis’s skillful bass playing highlights some runs and adds bounce to others. Drummer Neyda Umana keeps the songs on track by being just as frenzied, using every blast and fill to generate more propulsion. It’s like a sheepdog keeping the herd together by doing backflips. I imagine everyone looking like they ran a marathon by the end of these absolute burners.

However, more than the performances, what makes Origin Of Suffering so engaging is its eclectic quirkiness. On the opening title track, Arredondo’s throat-searing scream pairs awesomely with guest Michelle Solis’ operatic singing, easily Vince Carter-ing Cradle Of Filth. “Riot”‘s extended, sample-heavy bridge should be sent to space as a time capsule of the last couple of years. Plus, the punchline is perfect. And, yes, the Mass Psychosis acoustic interludes rule. But pay special attention to “Sine Sole Sileo.” It’s the watershed, a straight-up black metal banger, trading in the brutal death metal pinch harmonics for Dark Fortress-y triumph. After that, Suffering’s dynamics change and it gets gooier. Rachel Solis takes on a more prominent role, particularly on the slammier “FTB” that fits in one of the better Burnt By The Sun riffs I’ve heard in a bit. (The album seems to naturally cleave into three parts. I’m wondering if every member took a crack at composing.) And then “We Didn’t Planet” is so gonzo, it would be a shame to spoil it. Wild.

I love this stuff. It takes me back to when I first started listening to death metal, my ears uncorrupted by categorization and codification, not knowing what might come next. I distinctly remember hearing Cephalic Carnage and Nuclear Death on the same day and being like, “What the heck am I getting myself into?” and loving every second of it. Origin Of Suffering, particularly its back half, gives me that same sort of high. It’s very Cephalic Carnage-meets-Nuclear Death, a rollicking ride that tickles my brain while melting my face. If you miss those wild-westy days when everything felt new and fresh, Harlequin is like flipping back to the beginning of your personal Choose Your Own Adventure book. I’m going to remember this one. [From Origin of Suffering, out now via the band.] —Ian Chainey

Location: Canada / France
Subgenre: black metal

Fog Kingdom return to the field on “As The Battle Rages Through The Endless Night,” dialing up the majesty glimpsed on the band’s 2019 demo as sword and shield clash in moonlit struggle. Heroic melodies are your guide, blasting and galloping as fortunes sway and charges renew. From Wyrm and Lila Starless, the latter of whom has appeared in the column with their similarly medieval-minded bands Ardente and Starlight Salvation, Fog Kingdom also occupy but even more clearly embrace the realm of epic fantasy. Though the production is raw, the instrumentation has bite, with a constant onslaught of earthshaking double kicks and endlessly dancing guitarwork at furious work behind Wyrm’s superbly phlegmy, in-your-face rasp. It’s this combination of valorant melodies and real sonic heft – along with a dash of effortless style – that elevates Fog Kingdom above the rest. [From Of Long Forgotten Battles, out now via the band.] –Wyatt Marshall

Location: Winnipeg, Canada
Subgenre: noise rock / sludge / post-hardcore

I don’t know how KEN mode keep doing it. “But They Respect My Tactics” is KEN mode through and through, but it’s harsher, gnarlier, better. Then again, that could sum up any new KEN mode record, a discography that has been quite the journey with no end point in sight.

NULL, the Winnepeg band’s eighth full-length, has two modes: heavily heaving noise rock and industrial-y, no-wave dirges. “Tactics” belongs to the former, building a bevy of textures and rhythms atop Scott Hamilton’s bass and Shane Matthewson’s nifty drumming. Jesse Matthewson’s riffs alternate between off-kilter arpeggios and head-nodding grooves. His vocals add another rhythmic layer that ties “Tactics” together and makes it satisfyingly knotty. And the lyrics ride that line between round-the-gallows funny and gut-punchingly true. “All grow frail and die,” Matthewson roars. “No power lasts. Success is fleeting. Existence: temporary.”

KEN mode’s existence has been anything but temporary, continually reinventing and refining its sound. For example, multi-instrumentalist Kathryn Kerr, who debuted on the excellent Loved, is let loose on NULL, adding a ton of neat timbres. Kerr’s sax on album opener “A Love Letter” squeezes on an acidic contrast. It sounds dangerous and unpredictable, like getting yelled at by a drunk. These extra earworms shine, making NULL the richest album of the quartet’s career sonically and emotionally.

Take “Lost Grip,” the 10-minute centerpiece. It’s a masterclass in Swans-y agony that fits an aching Nine Inch Nails-esque melody atop martial drumming. Jesse Matthewson’s tired, wounded vocals sound like someone’s conscience, while the gang vocals are a Greek chorus that might as well be social media’s id. When “Lost Grip” explodes cathartically, it’s a real release. Matthewson’s howls are one part Steve Austin, one part John Mohr, and two parts end of the world. “We deserve this,” the chorus cries over a guitar lead that sounds like bolts of electricity emanating from a Tesla coil.

Do we deserve KEN mode, though? A loud, noisy band finding critical success that gets louder, noisier, and more uncompromising with every release? That’s not the road most taken. “For me personally, my own concept of success kinda more has to do with the journey rather than the end point and a lot of it is just constantly growing and learning and experiencing new things,” Jesse Matthewson said to Northern Transmissions in 2015. Perhaps that’s why KEN mode have been able to keep their foot on the gas: They’re refueled and reinvigorated by the experiential effects of making music.

NULL is KEN mode at their peak as composers, especially in the memorably lyric department, navigating these songs with old-hand know-how. What blows me away is that it somehow retains that young-band spark. To be continually doing this style this convincingly this far into a career is really something. To not burn out, but burn brighter? To survive the goddamn Velvet Unicorn? I don’t know how KEN mode do it. I respect the tactics, though. [From NULL, out 9/23 via Artoffact Records.] —Ian Chainey

Location: Brazil
Subgenre: blackgaze

Blackgaze might be the first significant metal subgenre to be born into the streaming world, and as such, it’s evolved both apart and away from metal – as well as absolutely everything else. Surfing Blackgaze Bandcamp today reminds me of tape-trading at the dawn of death metal, when every new demo or debut felt totally unlike anything else out there.

And this music, blackgaze, it really is unlike anything else. You gotta remember, all the people who are doing this stuff, they’re verging into the unknown. They’re sitting at home, obsessively hunched in front of a computer at 4AM, tweaking reverb, making a whole genre – and making it whatever they wanna make it. There are no maps, no rules, no ancient elders to guide the way. There are no gates, so there are no gatekeepers. It’s life on fuckin’ Mars out here. Put your flag wherever you want. And if Mars starts to feel too confining, we’ll just move to Venus. We can take this anywhere.

And it can arrive from anywhere. One of the coolest things about blackgaze’s streaming-life evolution is the fact that game-changing new artists can emerge instantly, at any moment, from…wherever. Nowhere. Everywhere. Somewhere else.

There’s something hot happening in Brazil right now. You can hear it in the 2022 releases from Empty Inside, Sonhos Tomam Conta, and F1D31. It’s textured, spacious, hypnotic stuff; it feels both narcotic and psychedelic. It’s expansive and unconventional. And it’s really, really great. I highly recommend you listen to all those albums I just mentioned. Truly, I tell you, they are great. But Dispar is something greater.

Dispar is, naturally, a one-man show, and totally anonymous except for the inclusion of a fairly clear, color photograph of the artist on his Bandcamp page (which perhaps takes away some of the “anonymous black-metal dude” mystique, but he’s a cool-looking guy, so I get it). And Hopeless (demo) is his first and only release so far. It’s also… a demo. It does not sound like a fucking demo. This is as lush, as powerful, and as exquisitely rendered as blackgaze gets: hooks the size of Niagara Falls; a sound the size of the goddamn moon. It’s simply beautiful music with some pretty serious thump. I wanna isolate all the finest components of this thing, but I don’t even know where to start. I cannot get over the vocals; they sound absolutely fucking unreal. The mix is insane. The production is like crystal chimes echoing in the hallways of the Sistine Chapel. That deep bass throb? That shit will work out knots in your back if you let it. And those synth loops? That sweet feedback glaze? THOSE GLIDE GUITARS?? Good lord. Fucking glorious, bro. It’s a truly magnificent sonic experience – listen to it on headphones and it feels like you’re submerged in an ocean of warm electric swells. Like, this is the shit you hear when you heroically leap into the Grand Canyon, and then, when your life force is reunited with the universe.

Now, OK, has the guy heard an Alcest record? I mean, yeah. Yes, he has heard an Alcest record. Has he heard a Slowdive record? Sure. He’s heard… at least two Slowdive records. But you know what? Alcest and Slowdive are probably two of my 10 favorite artists of all time, and everyone should always be listening to them. More importantly, if the Dispar song I’m featuring here – the record’s opener, “Skin” – were actually on an Alcest or Slowdive record, I would be out here losing my mind over it. Instead, it’s on a tiny two-song debut demo by an anonymous kid from Brazil. So… I’m out here losing my mind over it.

Or maybe I’m just giving my heart to it. How could you not? From the very first sound that you hear to the very last, “Skin” is perfect. It is a perfect piece of music. And you know what? So is the second track here, “Essence.” So, two-for-two, 10 out of 10. By my count, Hopeless (demo) has exactly two flaws: It’s too short and I need more. Besides that? Perfect. I’m not calling Dispar the best blackgaze band on the planet today, but I am saying there’s nobody doing it better than this right here, right now. And I’m not calling Dispar’s demo the best album of 2022, but I might just say it anyway. [From Hopeless (demo), out now via the artist.] –Michael Nelson

Location: Toronto, Canada
Subgenre: black metal / death/thrash

From where and what did Autonoesis come? I missed the pummeling, insane, hair-raising thrashy piece of work that was their 2020 self-titled debut, so their newest album Moon Of Foul Magics hit like some kind of deep-space bulldozer. Autonoesis do it all, bringing the best of everything they touch into tightly wound songs of technical riff mastery full of action, suspense, and satisfying resolve. Blackened blasting brings an alien evil into play, while chunky, deathy guitars grate the ear drums and provide a bed for intricate tech forays into parts unknown. Much of the thrill of the headlong off-the-rails rip through dark matter can be credited to the thrash DNA that’s wired Autonoesis for face-contorting chaos. And while “Moon Of Foul Magics” rips with a body-shaking ferocity and low end, with a mind-obliterating breakdown thrown in for good measure, there’s also a gorgeous instrumental interlude that gives way to technicolor meteor showers of radical guitars. An artifact of awesome power from parts unknown, Moon Of Foul Magics destroys and wows in equal measure, growing stronger and stronger with each listen. [From Moon Of Foul Magics, out now via the band.] –Wyatt Marshall