The Fallen 2025 by Vinny

The star of the show though is most definitely the vocals. As you would expect from my description of the album thus far, the vocals of Thérèse are not pretty. They are incredibly versatile in the reactions they can invoke in the listener, however. For me they mirror frustration, desperation, unfathomable sorrow, scathing fury and stinging vitriol across the nine songs that make up the record. At times they do bring tears to my eyes, such is the level of pleading futility that is on display on some songs. It feels like they are on occasion, seeking refrain from the relentless cycle of grief that I so brilliantly exemplified by the music. I am no expert of the Kubler-Ross model, but it feels like the songs are well researched and as a result are performed in a legitimate and convincing way.

The atmosphere on Alluvion is nothing short of humongous. It is repressive in that it takes all your attention to truly admire its oppressive density. The whole experience is devoid of leniency in that it simply does not let up once for nearly forty-minutes. The boldness of artists who can produce such domineering sounds and not think to give any respite at all is a joy to behold in a world of mass produced, easily accessible and safe music. This album is just the soundtrack to your worst, unending nightmares by comparison. It relies on no pillars of technicality or musical fanfare. Repetition and (largely) slow grinding riffs are the order of the day here. Inflections of atmospheric chaos litter the record (those shrieking voices at the end of ‘Vision II’) along with black metal fury (‘Pandemonium’s Throat’) flooding in to really spice things up.

Deific Mourning sounds like a beast in the throes of uncontrollable grief for it’s fallen lord. It is like an acid bath of sorrow. The density of the sound is like a mournful millstone around your neck, the cavernous vocals grunting and gurning their dismal and gloomy emotions until they surround you. All the while the guitars chug away in a punishing and laborious drudgery, as if consigned to riff away for an eternity of mourning. The leads when they come, are just as melancholic, sharpening the pain as they seep into tracks

Clearly well-produced, the sound on the album is big, surrounding the listener in all the glorious tropes of the instrumentation present here. Those keyboards are elevating and elegant, adding distinct majesty to the darkness, uniting with the melancholy of the guitar perfectly. Both elements do really work well in tandem with one another, the guitar comes out with the upper hand still though, maintaining prevalence throughout much of the album. As a reference point, I am reminded often of Shape of Despair when listening to Heritage, such are the acute levels of melancholy and the sense of the sheer distance that is created in the atmospherics. At times I would go further and say there’s a bit of Bell Witch present here also. The dramatic opening to album closer ‘Until the Last gasp’ lives up to this comparison for sure.

Describing themselves as a ‘blackened noise band’ (at least according to the Spotify bio anyway) could not be further from the truth, as there is no noisy element to this record. The agonising pace of album highlight, ‘Toil in the Undergrowth’ is testimony to how captivating atmospheric sludge is. By the time the first riff lands we are three minutes into the track. Those hoarse and tormented vocals heralding the arrival of the track proper perfectly as that riff crashes in behind them. This album is full of Neurosis and Isis influences, and as a result had me hooked from the off. Songs feel like they are expanding even though there is little in the way of variation to suggest this is naturally the case. Any progression is deliberate and measured, feeling organic and unforced.

What is clear, even as a relative newbie to the band, is that these fellas know how to write songs. There’s obvious depth to all the tracks on this album. Emotional and compositional depth is present in equal amounts, and as a result Otra is an incredibly rich and rewarding album to listen to. There is the mournful atmosphere you would associate with the gothic tag, but there is also the sense of mystery, of some riddle that runs in secret through the album, like there’s always something more to come on each track. It is this narrative of intrigue that keeps my attention on the album from start to finish. This intensity by no means impinges on the overall relaxed vibes that come off the record as it plays. The vocals have a soothing monotone to them, a handsome charm almost. Even on the death doom sounding section of ‘The Crimson Crown’, the menacing vocals are tempered by most of the track being sung in a clean and sultry tone.

The riffs sound as monstrous as ever but also feel more rounded overall. They supplant the need for vocals on the instrumental tracks well. On the title track for instance, the whole body of instruments gets to tell the tale for much of the song. Jon Davis’ vocals are perhaps the only area of the Conan sound that appears to have undertaken no enhancements on the new record. Not that they need it really, but they do feel a little left behind as a result. It is a minor quibble and by no means ruins everything (Jon’s vocals have always deliberately been placed in the background anyway on Conan releases), but I think there is some impact on the collective aspect of the sound.

Fentanyl opens with a huge, slamming breath of blackened doom that expels everything else from out of the immediate ether into parts unknown. 'Of Furor and Ecstasy' is immediately the center of attention and Morast dare you to take your eyes (or more importantly – your ears) off it for more than a second. The cloying and suffocating atmosphere that the opening track exudes makes for an excellent start to this, the band’s third full-length. Stretching to a little over thirty-four minutes, this is not a record that outstays its welcome by any means either, that excellent opening therefore should be maintained relatively easily.

Instantly recognisable as having more than a nod in the direction of My Dying Bride and Paradise Lost, from the off I can determine that these boys come from good stock. They were unknown to me until this release, but a quick check of the history to them shows they have been around since 2011. With two albums already under their belt, it is fair to assume that album number three should be a pretty solid and mature sounding affair and that is exactly what I get. The cleaner vocal sections (if they can be referred to as that) did catch me off guard initially and I do still prefer the more monolithic version of the vocals (see Landsickness – my standout track) in all honesty. Yet Onirophagus do still present a fantastic sense of spiralling misery across their sound, adding the real sense of oppressive and looming atmosphere to the listening experience as a result.

After a few listens through to Abur with the tribal percussion and dense atmospheres, coupled with echoing chants and expansive keys, it is obvious that a lot of thought has gone into the record. Whilst it might not have an immediate argument for frequent revisits (this very much a mood record) it is a very professional sounding yet artistically endearing album. Where the band are most definitely skilled is in the ability to combine multiple elements on one track, not necessarily blending them, just very capable at arranging them. The title track absolutely feeds off the atmospherics before breaking off into some of the denser sludge content present on the album. When in full flow, the atmosphere here is reminiscent of an Akhlys album, minus the horror of course.

Lambert deploys a horrific and ghastly vocal style throughout the six tracks here which fits the marauding guitar perfectly, both backed up by Lambert’s thudding drums. Hanyi for his part covers guitar and bass on the album and although you are going to struggle to find the bass in here (apart from on album closer 'Az örök isten Lucifer'), the guitar makes its presence known. On the slower sections it hangs hauntingly in the air, like some horrendous spirit that refuses to pass over to the other side because it is having far too much fun threatening the living. In their more frantic moments, the band sound like a squally death metal act (hints of some Portal at times, to my ears at least) but they have mastered the mid-paced plod style of death doom best.

It is a surprisingly cohesive sounding record given it was written on two different continents. This "quick and dirty" (as the band call it) style pays dividends as the pair bash and smash their way through all manner of influences ranging from the Melvins through to punk. The seedy undertone that gets set early in the record never truly wears off and there is a sense of the listener getting grimier by the track. The drums and guitar make their presence known in equal quantity and don’t ever outshine one another. The vitriol heavy vocals, wheeze and sleaze their way over the music in an almost serpentine-like manner.

Touching on psychedelia, stoner rock, hard rock and classic rock alongside the more doom-laden side to proceedings, Lightning in a Bottle is actually quite a varied affair. Full of lyrical absurdities ("I spoke to Death last night, he wore a nightmare gown, and when I spoke your name, he turned his eyes down to the ground" - from "I Spoke to Death") and widdling solos, all performed to a backdrop of solid and consistent percussion, I found this record way more interesting than I expected. The artists Bobby has recruited might have their moments of mistiming here and there (which somehow is just acceptable) but overall they have put together eleven consistent tracks. Unafraid to play with pace and tempo, the band create a distinct feeling of balance over the album. Starting off with the previously praised opening track, Live Again and then closing the album with the deliciously doomy Walk the Sociopath, Pentagram have managed to achieve a complete album experience here.

If you come looking for variety in your music, then turn on your heels and head back from whence you came dear listener. Here be repetition, within repetition, within repetition, within repetition…I think you get the idea. At its best when listened to through earphones, when Dødssang lands with you right, it is hard to switch off or skip, let alone harder to not put on repeat immediately after the play through is done. I don’t mind the lack of variation as I find the tone it sets is more than enough to peak my interests currently and so I am glad in a way that it sticks to this approach consistently throughout. I can see for some though that this could be a problem. As I say, Dødssang is absolutely mood music and so the higher scores are not relevant in terms of a rating. Unless you are constantly in that dark space then I can’t imagine you seeking out this record much.

The quality levels on Sub Rosa are high, and this sounds like a record made by a trio who are tight and used to playing alongside each other. I can’t deem how long they have been together, but they have three albums under their belts now, and this shows here. Balancing all the elements superbly here, the album feels like everyone knows their place with the riffs, bass, percussion and vocals all getting a showing in the sound. There is no sense of jostling for position on behalf of any of the component parts here, probably as a result also of the great production job that allows those hazy and more dense atmospheres to stay present alongside each other so well.

Of course, Amy also has responsibility for the vocals. Her dreamy, stoner/psychedelic style works in great contrast to her heavier bass work. The vocal performance on album closer 'Prayer' stands out in particular with its very personal and sentimental traits making for a deeply heartfelt display. It is not often a doom track manages to invoke emotion in me, but I genuinely fought back tears when listening to that song. As the album highlight for me, it is a shame that such beauty is quite isolated here.

When they get the arrangement correct, Lord Agheros are quite the accomplished songwriters. However, there are some occasions whereby contrast the compositional aspects of some tracks are clumsy and cumbersome. In the early part of the album, transitions seem to struggle to land all that well. As a result, songs sound like they jerk and jolt around. As the record progresses, this problem does seem to fade in frequency and the second half of the album suffers a lot less from this.

The Screaming of the Valkyries peaks far too early as it turns out. That is not to say that the rest of the album is terrible by any means, but it does lack the immediacy that was promised by the opening two tracks. Whilst I completely acknowledge that ‘The Trinity of Shadows’ is well written; it just does not measure up to what precedes it and seems to herald the start of a mediocre section of the album for the next five tracks. It is not until ‘Ex Sanguine Draculae’ that things pick up just in time for triumphant album closer ‘When Misery Was a Stranger’.