Godzilla vs. Heavy Metal
The monster emerged from the mists of the moshpit. “Recently, we played a show in Cleveland, and some guy in a Godzilla costume showed up and started going nuts in the pit,” Lord Kaiju, the singer and guitarist for the death metal band Oxygen Destroyer, writes in an email. “I nearly laughed my ass off during one of our songs because I couldn’t believe how awesome it was.”
The awesomeness of kaiju movies, the Japanese-originated film genre mostly concerning giant monsters doing giant monster things, has been Oxygen Destroyer’s domain since forming in 2014. Once a solo project of Lord Kaiju’s, the band has grown into a quartet and steadily increased its potency. Guardian Of The Universe, its newest album and the third of its reign, is a blitz of big-ass riffs born from the thrashy, full-tilt furiousness of Demolition Hammer, Morbid Saint, and other early pummelers. “Thrash metal and death metal bands are destructive as hell,” Lord Kaiju explains. “It seemed like the perfect style of music to capture the power of giant, city-destroying monsters.”
Oxygen Destroyer is not alone when it comes to fusing metal with metropolis-mashing monster mayhem. Heavy metal has a kaiju legacy, from the proto, such as Blue Öyster Cult’s all-timer groove stomper “Godzilla,” to the ’80s and ’90s antecedents. “I know plenty of metal bands before us that had some songs based on Kaiju movies,” Lord Kaiju asserts. “Anvil wrote a kickass song about Mothra. The Cianide song ‘Mountains in Thunder‘ is about Godzilla. And Hellwitch has a song about Godzilla as well, called ‘Mordirivial Dissemination.'” Not to mention, the debatably current biggest death metal band on the planet, Gojira, derives its name from Toho Studios’s most significant kaiju export.
However, Oxygen Destroyer feels like the start of something new, a distinct segment of metal fully dedicated to exploring the commonality between two oft-derided art forms with far more going on below their respective surfaces than the juvenalia typically levied against them. At the very least, on the eve of Godzilla’s 70th birthday, more metal bands are opening up about their monster movie influences and how they shape the music they make. So, with the rise of the Monsterverse and the recent critical acclaim showered upon Toho’s 33rd entry into the Godzilla series, 2023’s Godzilla Minus One, it’s time for kaiju and metal’s strange beasts to unite and fulfill their destructive as hell destinies.
For Lord Kaiju, monster movie fandom came early. “The first kaiju film I ever watched was the original King Kong vs. Godzilla. I was five years old, and I’d never seen anything like it. My life was changed forever.”
Pretty soon, the budding beastmaster who had undertaken a crash course in kaiju thanks to weekly tours of the local video store would have his life transformed again. “My first metal album was [Metallica’s] Ride The Lightning. My dad grew up listening to Bay Area thrash, so he’s the one that got me into bands like Metallica, Slayer, Death Angel, Anthrax, Overkill, and Testament. The title track for Ride The Lightning got me hyped up like nothing else. I was mostly listening to classic rock at the time, and the moment I heard [it], I was ready to hear more.”
Like how Ride The Lightning laid the foundation for a lifelong interest in metal, another classic became Lord Kaiju’s favorite monster movie. Sometimes your first is the best, and that’s the case with the start of Toho Studio’s Shōwa era: 1954’s Godzilla. “I consider it a true masterpiece. The special effects are amazing, and the writing is excellent. It’s a film that represents the horrors of nuclear weapons. I think its message is just as meaningful today as it was when it came out.”
With its allusions to nuclear radiation and fallout, including the devastating effects of the Oppenheimer-esque scientist Daisuke Serizawa’s “oxygen destroyer,” a superweapon prompting mutually-assured-destruction concerns if the blueprints fell into the hands of the world’s superpowers, Godzilla (1954) taps into the then-contemporary cultural anxieties. It’s art as a surrogate, a way to tackle challenging themes without shouldering reality’s debilitating enormity. Accordingly, it’s not hard to draw a line between kaiju movies and, say, ’80s thrash digging into meatier political themes, such as Metallica’s “Disposable Heroes” exploring the futility of war and its negation of free will. Both unpack tensions about their respective eras and surroundings, presenting easier inroads for those who want to take them while still entertaining those who don’t.
Predictably, since metal has myriad permutations, other metalheads’ favorite kaiju flicks run the gamut. Tom Murphy from the Arizona thrash band Intent prefers 2002’s Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla; Chris Scearce, the vocalist for Chicago, Illinois, death metal merchants Bear Mace, rides for 1955’s Godzilla Raids Again; and Felix King of UK cinematic metallers Disconnected Souls gets down with 1961’s Mothra. King’s justifications for choosing Earth’s great protector demonstrate the diversity in what everyone gets out of these movies. “It’s a strange reason, but I really love the visual design of the posters for the 1961 movie. I’m also just a fan of hers. Isn’t she sort of cute?”
Similar to Lord Kaiju’s early onboarding, plenty of metallers have their standbys rooted in fond memories of catching the kaiju bug early, such as Jason Doyle of the New Hampshire stoner/doomers Dust Prophet. “I grew up in a house where old-school Godzilla movies were a big deal, so the G-Man was always kind of the mainstay, and for me, it was all about the various other kaiju that he’d be pitted against. I found myself partial to MechaGodzilla and Gigan — so Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla or Godzilla vs. Gigan.”
Camden Cruz, from the Florida power/thrash band Seven Kingdoms, also finds that kaiju movies are inextricably linked with one’s salad days while additionally appreciating how they’ve evolved. “I grew up as a child with the Godzilla franchise, so this is super close to my heart! I really loved these movies. They were super entertaining as a child and still as an adult! It’s really cool to watch the old-school and new-school ones and see the differences. It was just so awesome to see the modern movies take these on, and, when done well, it really adds a magnificent effect with the modern special effects. I know some people don’t care for it, but I really do like them all.”
Obviously, when you like something, it will start making its way into your art, either consciously or not. When the time came to try his hand at music, pairing the two things that rerouted Lord Kaiju’s life seemed as natural as an ancient creature snoozing in the sea. “Kaiju are grand and epic in scope, and so is metal. It’s also really exciting to see giant monsters beating the hell out of each other. It gives me the same feeling when listening to thrash, death metal, or grindcore.”
In an interview conducted earlier this year that ran in a previous Black Market, Lord Kaiju also noted kaiju movie’s specific influence on Oxygen Destroyer. “We play hyper-fast to symbolize certain moments in specific Giant Monster films where buildings are crumbling, landscapes are exploding, and titans of terror are clawing at each other. And when we play slowly, it’s syncing up to the scenes where kaiju are slowly lumbering across the land or recharging themselves within the depths of the sea before the next attack.”
However, kaiju’s influence on metal is often more abstract, as is the case with Disconnect Souls’ King. “When I was a child, I got really into Tamagotchi, and I mean deep into it. I had this limited edition Mothra-themed one. Being into those kinds of chiptune devices is part of what inspired me to start using electronic elements in music.”
And then, there are those instances when a question inspires an epiphany, stirring something awake inside you that you didn’t realize was there. “Honestly, this is a great question, and it’s really starting to make me think we need to do this!” Cruz enthuses about a possible new direction for Seven Kingdoms. “I think it would actually be a great song idea to come from the human suffering point of view, like in Minus One, because of the emotional connection we can get from a story like that. We would probably go this route in the event we do it!”
To be sure, an emotional connection isn’t the only way kaiju movies and heavy metal intersect. “I think that the image of kaiju and a lot of the artwork are very similar to metal art creations,” Cruz explains. “It’s very easy to make one out of the other and vice versa!” Dust Prophet’s Doyle has a more straightforward answer for why metal and kaiju movies cross over: “[mock Russian accent] …are both big, heavy things.”
So, in the spirit of big, heavy things, our respondents were tasked with creating their own metal kaiju. Naturally. Like any serious publication would ask a musician to do.
“I would create a giant bear like the one on the cover of our first record, Butchering The Colossus,” Bear Mace’s Scearce says. “Big enough to wreck a city looking for a giant salmon. With razor-sharp claws and the ability to breathe fire. Oh, and laser eyes. Definitely laser eyes.” As Shakespeare famously wrote in King Lear, “Definitely laser eyes.”
Doyle had laser eyes on the brain when it came to constructing a kaiju, too. “It’d be a two-hundred-foot tall pigeon with orange laser eyes and acidic droppings because that sounds both dope as fuck and completely terrifying.” Every statue in the greater New York City area is doomed.
King, though, eschews lasers and wants to inspire fear in a decidedly older beast. “An animal-type kaiju, something which burrows underground, creating earthquakes like rolling thunder. Maybe he existed in the prehistoric period so he can’t cause too much destruction. OK, so we’ve got a giant mole who terraforms and makes the T-Rex nervous.” It saddens all of us that John Tenta can’t don the suit for Mega Mole.
If any kaiju creators are reading this, first, sorry, and second, there are some free ideas for you. And according to Lord Kaiju, a few of those monster makers have been keeping tabs on Oxygen Destroyer. “I know some people involved in indie kaiju films have been following us for a while now — also a few people involved in Godzilla comic books. It really means a lot!”
Until an official metal kaiju is added to the pantheon, Oxygen Destroyer is doing just fine on its own, roaring out ripping songs and eye-lasering any obstacles impeding its metallic path. And as the band proves, you don’t need much more than killer riffs to go, go Godzilla, although a dash of movie magic certainly doesn’t hurt the live show. “We have cardboard box buildings on stage with us from time to time, and when we play venues with screen projectors, we have a montage of kaiju films playing behind us as we perform,” Lord Kaiju writes about the current concert setup. “I think things are fine how they are for now, but maybe someday we can start having people in kaiju costumes showing up on stage with us.”
Heed the call, monsters. Rise. The moshpit awaits. –Ian Chainey
FOUL EMANATIONS FROM THE VOID
10. Glyph – “La Ruine”
Location: Parts Unknown
Subgenre: black metal
According to the Bandcamp description, a demo version of “La Ruine” was corrupted and lost, and the recording we have here is a rough mix that the artist says won’t ever be reworked. And that’s fine because “La Ruine” is a quirky, madcap delight. Equal parts surf punk and black metal carnival, it bounces and careens, bombing down blackened waves, maniacal laugh echoing across Dalí-esque beaches mid-melt. Like a good punk song, it’s short and sweet, barely two minutes of bouncing bass and a dancing riff backing the reverberating shrieks of a fiend. Glyph often creates horror-stricken, cavernous works that are both grand and creepingly unsettling, but there’s sometimes a hint of mischief at work. “La Ruine” comes from the curiously titled or as I prefer to say, “who?”, and as one EP purchaser wrote, “I can always count on Glyph for some wacky shit.” [From or as I prefer to say, “who?”, out now via
9. Gigan – “Trans-Dimensional Crossing Of The Alta-Tenuis”
Location: Chicago, IL
Subgenre: death metal
Well, hello, band sharing a name with a kaiju. To be fair, Eric Hersemann, Gigan’s driving creative force, head shredder, and lone constant member, cites a different derivation. “GIGAN is a Japanese word that means ‘false eye,'” Hersemann told Ondarock in 2011. “It is a reference to every human’s ability to see through their ‘mind’s eye.'”
Hersemann and company picked a good name. For nearly 20 years, Gigan has gazed into the great death metal beyond, creating an otherwordly onslaught that’s kind of like Hate Eternal, in which Hersemann had a brief stint, scrying universal secrets by staring into a quasar. Gigan’s lightspeed smear of stars and dark matter riffing, a heady mix in the sense that its psychotropic properties might induce a head change, has more than earned the band its psychedelic album titles: Quasi-Hallucinogenic Sonic Landscapes, Multi-Dimensional Fractal-Sorcery and Super Science, Undulating Waves Of Rainbiotic Iridescence, etc. And Gigan’s super science approach to rainbiotic riffing has opened the band up to all sorts of atypical timbres, something that has been a facet of the band’s identity from the get-go.
“But even then, I was using and using dissonant chords and different tapping techniques and off the beaten path kind of stuff,” Hersemann said to Metalchondria in 2018, “because my imagination has always led me towards things that are stranger sounding.”
Of course, stranger sounding and indulgently strange are two vastly different paths for musicians to take. To that end, Gigan might be one of the few death metal bands on the planet that plays a theremin and xylophone without the resulting tunes sounding like you’re having a bad trip in the back of a jazz club. And that’s what sets Gigan apart from other transmundane riffers: The trio has always had a workmanlike quality, no matter who Hersemann has surrounded himself with. I don’t mean that as a slight. Gigan is a working band, constantly touring — I should know; I’ve seen the theremin in the flesh. Thus, at an atomic level, Gigan’s death metal feels like death metal, charting the same constellations as cosmoshers such as Mithras or Sarpanitum, bands with DNA traceable to Morbid Angel, and the like. They’re people, in other words, brutal astronauts whose voyage itinerary is born out of playing live to living audiences. After all, these guys aren’t hiding out in the studio. Their spaceship is a tour van. Ultimately, then, whatever Gigan pumps out has an identifiably human quality that helps its more experimental forays land with the visceralness of a punch to the face.
That confluence of experimentalism and pragmatism, the uncanny and very human, is the contradiction powering the tension that has made Gigan so interesting. And the band knows what’s up. “If I had to use one word to describe Gigan’s music,” Hersemann told Metalchondria, “it would be a fight between imaginative and colorful because I’m not trying to convey one thing. [I’m] trying to convey all of everything, [the] full palette, and that’s how I try to live my life as well. I’m a complex person.”
So, here we are back in familiar territory, which, to be clear, is the complex extraterrestrial environs of a Gigan album. Anomalous Abstractigate Infinitessimus, an album title with the mouthfeel of a sailor’s knot, is Gigan through and through, spinning subatomic blarghicles inside a hadron collider, creating black holes that tear apart the fabric of death metal space/time and the all of everything. But this fifth album is some of the band’s finest work, refocusing its energies on, and this is a technical term I picked up from astronomy, kicking complete amounts of ass. There’s a lucidity to these eight songs that Gigan has occasionally lacked when it would get lost in the sauce of its own swirl. Not so here. Even during long stretches of free-time noisemaking (the 10-minute but not a second wasted “Emerging Sects of Dagonic Acolytes”), these three — Eric Hersemann (guitars, theremin, otomatone, synths), Nathan Cotton (drums), and Jerry Kavouriasris (vocals) — always feel like they’re heading somewhere.
That trek begins with “Trans-Dimensional Crossing Of The Alta-Tenuis,” a song I accidentally left on repeat for 30 minutes and didn’t mind a bit. (Not punishing my limitless idiocy is clearly a marker of integrity.) Kicking off with a death metal overture, the Anomalous Abstractigate Infinitessimus’s opener soon hits the Gigan hallmarks: esoteric songwriting, fleet drumming, and unbound-by-conventions shredding. And “Trans-Dimensional Crossing Of The Alta-Tenuis” is truly a showcase for the strange, allowing everyone, from Hersemann’s riffs to Cotton’s drumming to Kavouriasris singing, to work outside the orbit of regular death metal expectations. And yet, this is so clearly the work of three musicians who want this stuff to crush an audience. It’s not mechanical, it’s not trying to be some recherché elder god, it’s not marveling at the shadowy hand of history-shaping ancient aliens. It’s human. You can sense the sweat, the calories burned, the unquantized majesty of musicians banging this stuff out in a practice space. In that sense, it’s more of an internal exploration of what it means to be a human making metal. So, Anomalous Abstractigate Infinitessimus is less about outer space and more about what you can see within yourself when you open your mind’s eye. [From the Anomalous Abstractigate Infinitessimus, out now via Willowtip.] –Ian Chainey
8. Disentomb – “Nothing Above”
Location: Brisbane, Australia
Subgenre: death metal
While Disentomb works on its fourth full-length, the Australian death metal quartet gave its bassist time to shine on Nothing Above. “With the writing done by our bassist Adrian, you can hear the mix of brutality while also some more experimental elements,” singer Jordan James said in the Unique Leader liner notes for the four-song EP. That Adrian is Adrian Cappelletti, the legit riff genius who has been in these pages before for Lurid Panacea, Deliquesce, and his solo work, and rightfully should’ve cracked a list for his ludicrous layover in Rawhead. There’s a reason the cognoscenti in the worlds of brutal gunk and experimental bork follow this dude around like goo-drunk Deadheads. When blessed with riffs, you become a shred shepherd whether you want to or not. So, what a luxury it must be to have Cappelletti playing bass in your band. I’m trying to imagine a “25 or 6 to 4” scenario where Disentomb asks Cappelletti to cut some songs stat, and that big ol’ brutal brain feeds the band’s last album, 2019’s The Decaying Light, through the Deliquesce Transmogrifier. “Ah. It appears I turned to Disincarnate knob all the way up. Alas.” Anyway, whatever songwriting strategy transpired did wonders. This is the most invested in Disentomb I’ve been since 2014’s Misery, if not its 2012 promo.
Now, it’s worth noting that I’ve relinquished my passport to normal music and currently reside as a full-fledged citizen of the toilet, so my Disentomb opinions run counter to those of the rest of the world. Misery and The Decaying Light reached a level of gen pop appreciation that few brutal albums do. However, for my tastes, the latter hews too closely to the gleaming perfection, the scrubbed-to-a-shine clinical exactitude, of Unique Leader’s nowadays output, a discography festooned with the kind of deathcore destined for guitar playthrough videos. (Sorry, kids, I don’t get it.) I bring this up not to etch into the record my dissatisfaction with the direction of band and label — although, as a world-class hater, I am motivated by petty grievances in the same way a shark is by hunger and have been chaffing against the nothing-but-good-things modern music writer model for longer than most dogs have been alive. No, this is a call to action: If you have also felt how I do about the last 10 years of Disentomb, you’re going to want to hop back in immediately.
Nothing Above rips. “Nothing Above” rips. I think what it took to get Disentomb back into ripping shape was returning it closer to something like Suffocation. “Nothing Above” follows along a distinct Despise The Sun direction, nestling into that ideal middle sliver of the Venn diagram where brutality, complexity, and catchiness cross over. And the flow feels effortless despite Disentomb linking together more sections than a conspiracy theory convention’s string board. Listen to that section starting at 0:51 when Jake Wilkes’s guitar dives like a fighter pilot losing consciousness during a high G maneuver. Like, there’s a whole album within those 15 seconds, which is naturally followed by another album’s worth of material packed into what replacement-level bands would treat as chuggy connective tissue.
And that’s just the thing: despite the density of each moment, “Nothing Above” moves unnormally fast. It’s an 18-wheeler with no breaks careening down a mountain, an offensive lineman running a 4.2 40. It’s rare to hear metal with this much verticality be propelled forward with this much horizontal force. To that end, Cappelletti puts drummer Henri Sison through a workout, asking the rhythm section to corral these riffs while adding its own independent flourishes. If Sison didn’t land in the hospital with rhabdo, he has the endurance of an ultra-marathoner. And, damn, Jordan James’s vocals sound great, landing perfectly within the rhythms while filling up the reverb chamber with a fault-lines-rubbing roar. Adrian Cappelletti, you’ve done it again. Disentomb, I take it all back. Sign me up for album four. [From Nothing Above, out now on Unique Leader Records.] –Ian Chainey
7. Euclidean – “Never Witness Clarity”
Location: La Chaux De Fonds, Switzerland
Subgenre: post black metal
“Never Witness Clarity” proceeds with a kind of stately, mid-tempo confidence, a measured march into darkness. Brooding, light-reflecting guitars the engine, and they fire dread-spread riffage into the unknown. Big, polished production is high-octane fuel. The track is just one of three on Euclidean’s second full-length, the Swiss band’s third release (counting a demo) in 12 years. At that rate, there’s time for ideas to steep, soaking up dark thoughts, disquieting emanations, and concentrating them into a dense, potent onyx-black mix. It doesn’t seek to surprise; instead, it relies on building horror-cloaked beauty into a captivating hypnosis. And as its hold seizes, dark forces are at work — distorted gremlin growls and the howls of a troubled mind. It serves to instill the idea that it isn’t chaos or violence that is necessarily the most destructive, but perhaps something more insidious. [From Fosse, out now via
6. Abhorration – “Demonolatry”
Location: Oslo, Norway
Subgenre: death metal
If the molten core of “Demonolatry,” the title track of Abhorration’s full-length debut, reminds you of a bygone era of death metal history, that’s no mistake. When vocalist/guitarist Magnus Garathun returned to Norway following a spin through Australia that produced the ripping Hecatomb, the ex-member of the legendary Kolbotn thrashers Condor wanted a new project and knew it had to go old.
“I’ve played in bands since the age of 10, so it was obvious to me that I would have to start something new, and I wasn’t really interested in reforming any former bands,” Garathun told VM Underground after the release of Abhorration’s 2021 demo, After Winter Comes War. “[drummer] Øyvind [Kvam] and I had played together in Condor, as well as live with the band Mabuse, so I contacted him soon after arriving back with the idea of playing some old thrashing death metal. I had been obsessing over early Morbid Angel and Sadistic Intent for a few years. And so the style was set, and the riffs flowed quite naturally.”
Naturally, the riffs flow on “Demonolatry,” including a timeless lurching groove reminiscent of the Altars Of Madness opener “Immortal Rights.” That’s the part of the fossil record that Abhorration is interested in unearthing: that ’80s stretch when the then-new form was still dragging its knuckles alongside its thrash ancestors. Morbid Angel, Sadistic Intent, Necrovore, Poison (the German one), etc.; you know how the elders sliced and diced.
That said, if Demonolatry was only a re-enactment, a plaster cast museum piece of the great brutal beasties that roamed the metalverse, that would be one thing. But like its peer Concrete Winds, Abhorration sounds fresh because it goes so goddamn hard. The form might not be new, but Abhorration’s unkempt anger certainly is. And the band knows how to wield that wrath to magnify the mayhem.
“A big appeal to me is the variety of tempo, rhythm, and intensity,” Garathun said to VM Underground. “I don’t think there is any genre more dynamic than death metal. This makes it a lot of fun to play and obviously more interesting to listen to! I have also always had a preference towards the thrashier parts of extreme metal, and so the older death metal, before the style was completely defined, has always been my favourite within the genre. The style itself has everything that I like about metal: aggressiveness, evil, brutality, and yet allows for a bit of technicality.”
Got to say, those are pretty good descriptors for “Demonolatry.” Guitarists Garathun and Nekromantheon/Obliteration’s Arild Myren Torp race through riffs with some of that Goatlord-derived, tech-before-tech complexity while ensuring that each solo break scintillates with panic-shredding, whammy-bar screams. Drummer Kvam and bassist Andreas Hagen hammer the grooves home with the muscular efficiency of a pile driver while unleashing blasts that have the bloodthirstiness of a vengeance-seeking subway car in the Maximum Overdrive universe. Aggressive, evil, brutal; rips. I didn’t think there would ever be a successor to Condor’s Unstoppable Power, but Abhorration is it. Everything old can be new again, I guess, and old-school death can be brought back to life. [From Demonolatry, out now via Invictus Productions.] –Ian Chainey
5. Dreamless Veil – “Every Limb Of The Flood”
Location: Richmond, VA
Subgenre: black metal
Dreamless Veil comes from a trio of veterans who have done time in, among others, the Australian tech death band Psycroptic, Artificial Brain, and Inter Arma — the latter two being among the highest regarded, most boundary-pushing extreme American metal bands of the last decade or so. As Dreamless Veil, they are embracing a more clearly blackened path, and they bring the technical chops and grand, profound narrative arcs that have defined some of their other work. So Dreamless Veil absolutely rips — with surgical precision, layering blistering, serrated riffs onto relentless, thunderous drumming bedecked with shimmering cymbal flair. On “Every Limb Of The Flood,” dread hangs heavy, with trilling guitars casting troubling light on the turmoil below, and the reverberating, booming rasps of Mike Paparo (vox in Artificial Brain and Inter Arma) looming large. But as sinister and ripping as it all is, it carries a sense of sadness and longing, too. As the track fades out, it does so with horror, howls, and resplendent light all around, and you feel a sense of loss as the chaos all goes quiet. [From Every Limb of the Flood, out now via Relapse Records.] –Wyatt Marshall
4. Serpent Column – “The Long War Of Essential Struggle”
Location: USA
Subgenre: black metal
Look, we all make mistakes. “Returning to longer, guitar- and riff-focused material — no other name to release something like that under, so I concede I was wrong,” Serpent Column’s J. Hamzey wrote in the liner notes for Tassel Of Ares, the solo-ish project’s fourth full-length and first since going dark around 2020. This reversal is notable because future dispatches from the shredder seemed to be in doubt. “I might still release records, but I’m not sure I really want to keep dealing with a place in which I’m not allowed to advance,” Hamzey said to Machine Music earlier this year. “I can just play guitar in my living room.” I mean, I’ve just been playing Belatro in my living room, so it’s clear who is leading the more fulfilling life.
Anyway, Hamzey, of course, hasn’t just played guitar in a living room. In the years since Serpent Column’s last transmission, 2021’s pretty great Katartisis, Hamzey has been ripping it up in Theophonous, the “more hardcore-influenced, dry-sounding, and personal in theme” barnburner, which is like if the eternally underappreciated screamo-but-don’t-tell-them-that band Capsule had a thing for avant-shreddery in the vein of Krallice or Mastery. (Hamzey and frequent collaborator Maya Chun, of the great Blue Noise, are on record admiring Capsule, the rhythmically dizzying No Ghost in particular. I’m a Blue dork. Nobody is perfect.) But when winding, labyrinthine riffs of a generational caliber come calling, one is compelled to shake old bands awake. And when the slumbering giant in question is one of the best newer black metal bands of the last 10 years, I don’t think anyone will call Hamzey out for the turnabout.
2024 finds Serpent Column in a mode that’s simultaneously more sonorous and meditative. “Reclaiming Decades Erased,” for instance, opens with a caustic blast of feedback, the kind of tinnitus-inducing ear assault more at home on an Incapacitants record. (The mix is pretty antagonistic all around, although I’ll concede, as Hamzey notes on Bandcamp, sound reproduction is mostly an end-user issue.) However, after a chunky midsection that spends a few ticks and tocks luxuriating in chugs, the band’s riffs start spinning, gaining speed until they reach a whirling dervish reverie. It’s one of those “we’re back” moments, reinstalling Serpent Column as one of metal’s finest engineers of the ecstatic.
“The Long War Of Essential Struggle,” Tassel Of Ares’s nearly 18-minute centerpiece, is when that feeling of divine delirium reaches a fever pitch. It’s a longform, no-hyperbole journey that is an instant reminder of Serpent Column’s power, as much as something clocking in at over a quarter of an hour can be instant. It’s also an encapsulation of everything the band can be, the artisan excelling at patiently constructing chaos, the architect of ataxia. Few modern metallers can write a riff like Serpent Column, those gloriously knotty arpeggios that are slashed to bits by attacking strums.
It’s no surprise, then, that the song really takes off around the seven-minute mark when it turns up the speed on its Portraits Of Past-cum-Wormlust shred. (Wormlust’s H.V. Lyngdal is credited with “vocal contributions” on Tassel Of Ares. More and more, I think The Feral Wisdom was a watershed for the Fallen Empire sect of esoteric black metal.) And, at its height, “The Long War Of Essential Struggle” is just this outpouring of emotion, a release within the cacophony — cathartic, like screaming your frustrations away while caught in a downpour. Glad you were wrong, J. Hamzey, because feeling that again feels so right. [From Tassel of Ares, out now via the band.] –Ian Chainey
3. Bríi – “Médium”
Location: Federal District, Brazil
Subgenre: experimental black metal
“Médium” is another dose of Caio Lemos magic, a song that feels as if it could only come from Brazil — and only from the hands of Lemos. It pulses and breathes in rhythm with the lifeblood of the rainforest, channeling ancient, living magic. Mixing folk influences and black metal with nary an electric guitar in sight, an orchestra of flutes, piano, muted acoustic guitars, warbling electronics, and maniacal black metal blasting — dampened to sound organic — summons spirits beneath the canopy.
It’s really a strange, remarkable mix that straddles so many different, seemingly disparate elements. Lemos’ vocals are unusual by all standards, with dark spirit bass-y rasps contrasting against the occasional chorus of shamanistic chanting. The minimalist electronics create strange, cool atmospheres that enter through a portal from another dimension. The flutes are a choir, the drumming the pitter patter of downpouring rain, or millions of tiny, scurrying footpads. Altogether, it is an utterly captivating, bewitching mix that reveals layers of masterful structure with each successive listen. Lemos first made his mark with Kaatayra, which followed a divergent path through the forest from Bríi’s — while Kaatayra lies dormant, Bríi continues to uncover new wonders at every turn. [From Camaradagem Póstuma, out now via
2. Theurgy – “Emanations Of Unconscious Luminescence”
Location: Italy / Thailand / United States / Canada
Subgenre: death metal
Ha! Marco Finco and Brandon Iacovella, you absolute nutters. It’s hard to stand out in a band featuring the immense goo powers of Polwach Beokhaimook (Ecchymosis, Cadavoracity, Biomorphic Engulfment, Cystgurgle, and plenty other projects under the nom de grume “Goredick,”) and the one who was promised, the Lisan al Slamib, Nikhil Talwalker (Anal Stabwound, Ectoplasmorphosis, Hate Inclination, probably your band if you ask nicely enough), but Theurgy’s guitarists have done it. On Emanations of Unconscious Luminescence, Theurgy’s debut full-length following a well-received but far tamer 2021 teaser promo, Finco and Iacovella take the near-melo, progressive-but-not-prog leads of Sutrah, Augury, or Irreversible Mechanism and launch them straight into the Wormed wormhole. What comes out the other side is a spaghettified version of brutal technical death metal befitting the bonkers bona fides of all involved.
So, let’s talk about those CVs. If provided the intel above, perhaps one could sketch a rough outline of what Theurgy might sound like. Finco is newish to goo; Theurgy is clearly his baby, but he also hopped aboard the budding international band Deprecatory as a vocalist for an EP this year, so he knows his way around the br00ts. Iacovella, on the other hand, is a known quantity in the world of progressive death, turning heads last year with Lunar Chamber on its debut EP, Shambhallic Vibrations, which is the closest a band that hasn’t picnicked in the Garden of Ma’at has gotten to Lykathea Aflame. Theurgy’s recipe, then, is simple: Take the third-eye-pried, transcendental melodic inclinations of Iacovella’s other gig, slather it with Finco’s technical fury, clamp it together with the rhythmic glue of Talwalker’s constantly shifting, Defeated Sanity-esque rhythms, and splurt Beokhaimook’s from-the-gut, power barfs on top like frosting. There you go. Makes sense. And yet, no. Absolutely not. It absolutely does not make sense. Those are just words. The actual article, the brain-mulching music, is something else. This stupid blurb can’t capture that. No, this stupid blurb is the equivalent of reading about a 100 mph fastball in a scouting report versus getting buzzed by one during a game.
Emanations Of Unconscious Luminescence’s title track is one of the songs Theurgy will blow right by you. On an album stuffed with the kind of shred that would give Psyopus a migraine, “Emanations Of Unconscious Luminescence” is a rhombicosidodecahedron of riffs. Dude. Dude. DUDE. Whatever is happening at 0:56 is plain outrageous, a series of bleeps that’s like a panicked QR code scanner reading the Chalino Sánchez note. (I don’t know how to cram this into this blurb, but whoever plays the Daniel Mongrain-y solo is a total sicko and earns their paycheck.) Somehow, Talkwalker matches that run later on bass, giving the dueling widdling this ineffable extra dimension that feels like rotating a 3D fractal model in your mind. (Needless to say, this is some of Talwalker’s best drumming to date. Must be nice being good at everything.)
The truly wild thing, though, is that “Emanations Of Unconscious Luminescence” is…pretty easy to follow? Granted, my brain is so broken at this point that I think Sulfuric Cautery is catchy, but, despite the ludicrousness of Theurgy’s hunt for undiscovered loud noises and Polwach Beokhaimook’s vocals sounding like the belly of a Labrador that ate a Costco’s entire inventory of hot dogs, there’s a clarity to the songwriting that makes these songs digestible. Like, for once, I don’t feel bad forcing you, dear reader, to mop up the spillage from my clogged-toilet musical interests. Similar to the aforementioned Wormed and Defeated Sanity, two bands with outstanding albums out this year, if there’s a sherpa to take to the mountaintop of your first brutal death metal ascent, Theurgy is a pretty good one. But here’s the thing: Theurgy isn’t a vet yet. So, in a year that has produced a bundle of possible BDM classics but few how-do-you-dos from fresh-faced BDM prospects, Theurgy stands alongside Submerged on the all-rookie team. Here’s to many more years of impossible shred, nutters. [From Emanations of Unconscious Luminescence, out now via New Standard Elite.] –Ian Chainey
1. 夢遊病者 (Sleepwalker) – “Jupiterian Convulse Tremor”
Location: Parts Unknown
Subgenre: post-metal
The mysterious entity that is Sleepwalker is also a shapeshifter, a many-limbed denizen of the shadows that appears in a different form every so many months or years. Evolving from a black metal-ish, freewheeling, noisy jazz entity into a kaleidoscope of increasingly brooding and atonal sounds, Sleepwalker has always been hard to pin down. You’ll find hooks, but rhythm and time tend to do strange things in Sleepwalker’s hands. Seconds melt and spasm, measures turning inward on themselves according to fever dream logic.
Sleepwalker’s latest, Delirium Pathomutageno Adductum, composed over three years across multiple continents, is perhaps the band’s most surreal to date. “Jupiterian Convulse Tremor” is gorgeous, a strange, otherworldly trip. It begins with building, pensive anticipation before giving way to chaotic destruction and, ultimately, a long, calm, mournful beauty, an elegy as asteroids rain on a distant planet. Throughout, layered and buried vocals provoke awe and confusion — a wild-eyed power metal wail moves in and out with sinister rasps and staticky comms transmitted from across the event horizon. The track clocks in at 5:40, the same length as the other three songs on the album, which across it features guest spots from members of Spiral Architect, Habbina Habbina, Convulsing, P.M.S./Wench, Traveler, and Chthe’ilist. It’s a remarkable, reality-distorting work that leaves a strange, slow-burning mark. [From Delirium Pathomutageno Adductum, out now via
HYMNS OF BLASPHEMOUS IRREVERENCE
From 1988's Hack-o-Lantern. Sort of. pic.twitter.com/ysB09Cb7Z8
— Wolf Rambatz (@WRambatz) October 30, 2024
