sermon — Blog - Crushtor.net

Once upon a time, album sales were the main source of income for a band so they could make even more on merch: now the merch is where money is made with album sales (or plays) coming a distant second. In fact, album sales has become merch - if you want physical media you have to pay 20x the going price for renting it on Spotify (per month, on average). Represses and reprints are the reserve of the boomer-beloved; Rod Stewart, Steely Dan, Dire Straits. If a band issues 100 copies of a digipak on Bandcamp and you find out through a mate’s blog a year after the fact, those copies are resting inside homes from Mumbai to Melbourne and all places in between and not yours. You missed out, son.

In fact, some people buy the LP or CD just to have - not as a useful conveyance for music playback. A friend I worked with on a project said he only “buys the CD to have in his collection” and never even plays it. CDs and LPs have become a curio more than a necessity. A piece of bragging rights to climb higher atop their peers on the mountain of cool. Me? Well, I’m just stubborn. That, and I just love holding something that’s intangible. It makes more sense in my head.

Dav Dralleon - Kthullu

Is there any wonder metalheads love synthwave? In the mid-2000s when extreme power metal band DragonForce burst on to the scene, it wasn’t uncommon to see their albums on ravers and EDM-heads (is that a thing?) iPods. If both camps gathered together protest style, we’d both be chanting: What do we want? Processed sounds! When do we want it? All the time!

Though metalheads and ravers seem like natural enemies, they’ve got way more in common than not. During that brief mid-2000s crossover, metalheads wouldn’t be out of place at a Venetian Snares or Infected Mushroom gig. Fast beats, twisted melodies, and large looming riffs - it’s what’s for dinner at both households.

The rise of the New Retro Wave of 80s synthpop has also led to a mini-revival of darker, metal-inspired EDM and psytrance referred to as “darksynth” or “metalsynth.” One of the original purveyors, Klayton of Celldweller fame is still producing great albums in this vein under new moniker Scandroid as well as releasing music by fellow travellers under his FiXT label.

Now comes French solo artist Dav Dralleon on second album Kthullu which is cybernetically augmented metal; as if people with robotic arms and legs were playing this hard and fast in a studio on the moon, to get even more hits in thanks to relaxed gravity. That’s exactly what we get: planet-sized riffs, glitched out robot synth lines, and blast beats big enough to wipe out the sun. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

Wachenfeldt - The Interpreter

Dr. Thomas von Wachenfeldt, Ph.D is an associate professor of musiciology at Umea University and part-time registered metal badass. Lucky for Tommy, his last name is more metal that mine could ever hope to be. Every riff and lick has a sense of polish; nothing out of place, everything balanced in perfect measure. Opener Spirits of the Dead is flailing drums and double-time riffs carved up by tasty, flowing leads as if Thor himself was loosing his blonde locks to the winds of Midgard.

Dr. Wachenfeldt is a master of deception - everything feels straightforward enough but like a serene duck atop a pond, the legs underneath are paddling like fury. As for his “interpretation” of black metal, it sits somewhere between Behemoth before Nergal did it for the ‘gram and Dimmu Borgir just went…well, weird. It’s creative, too Ut opens with a skull-crushing bass solo (gasp!) and drips in antipathy like blood does from ceilings. After someone has EXPLODED. Probably. It’s kind of like the prelude to Megadeth’s Rust in Peace…Polaris except the foreboding never really stops. If you like the extreme end of metal, give this one a spin. You won’t be disappointed. If only every music snob made music this good…

Insomnium - Anno 1696

Insomnium may not have invented Scandinavian sadboi melodeath, but they sure perfected it. Some ungenerous folk might say it hit a peak on 2005’s Above the Weeping World. Sloughing off their In Flames meets Children of Bodom by way of Sentenced tag around that time, their sombre, introspective brand of melodic death survived the 2010s wilderness and beyond with some solid yet middling albums. I mean, shit, I still bought them. Don’t listen to them much, though.

Anno 1696 is a concept about the black death, Christianity, and paganism and they play it like an epic musical, to a point. Opening with twinkling folk guitars, they segue into their trademark low-to-high note before blasting us in the face with blastbeats and fiery vocal attack. They’re trying to capture moods here, and they pretty much nail it. Bringing in throat-shredder Sakis Tolis (Rotting Christ, Thou Art Lord) for centrepiece death march White Christ is sort of like letting the devil off his leash to menace the track. Then heavenly voices decend from on high through a guitar hero-led Godforsaken; it’s all rather dramatic and engrossing.

Tracks like Lilian and Starless Paths are classic Insomnium fare; hard riffing led along by melancholy leads, lamenting loss and what could have been. Since In Flames have long vacated the acoustic crown, Insomnium more than fill out the rump on the beginning of Witch Hunter and “ballad” (of sorts) The Unrest which treads that Opeth line without going over into full 70s paisley and shag hair carpet territory (there’s a mellotron, though!) Nine albums down, they’re still making compelling melodeath. Only a handful of bands can lay claim to that.

LEIÞA - Reue

Avantgarde Music/Noisebringer Records (2023)

Yes friends - that’s not a “P” (or an R, in cyrillic…this is getting confusing) that’s a Þ - the long-forgotten Old English by way of Norse “thorn” pronounced “th”. So it’s not LEE-pah, it’s more like LEE-tha. You know, like the mythic river of forgetfulness. The sweet balm of blessing. Wait, that’s the wrong band. Anyway…

Leiþa makes vocal noises that occasionally resemble German, which automatically makes everything sound 1000% more evil. Sitting in the pocket of the PR-invented genre “atmo-black” (atmospheric black metal) which is supposed to signal more Agalloch than Anaal Nathrakh, so what the fuck would I know. It has its fair share of blast beats and guitars filling the fringes of the soundscape in a sweeping, epic vein, though it sounds way more “traditional” than ambient or whatever. Songs like Abgang and a waltz-like 3/4 time catch the ear way more often. Though it doesn’t pick up bear skins and torches like your average Saor or Primordial yet they don’t slip into neon-trimmed techno-suits ala Shade Empire or …And Oceans. It’s a constant tension between organic and technological elements, which makes the listen all the more intriguing.

Warcrab - Damned In Endless Night

India’s fastest growing extreme metal label has one secret of success: they don’t sign shit bands. Nearly every TO band on their roster have been one of quality; and the generous free downloads they give out with every physical release just means you get even more music to fall in love with. Oh, and their crazy UV gloss digipacks look fucking incredible. Their vinyl even more so. Also, label owner Kanal Choksi runs a stray animal shelter out of the TO offices. What a guy!

Back to UK’s Warcrab. A band that has a badass/dumbass name depending on how you look at it. Though on flrst blush these UK gloomsters are pure Sabbath worshippers, especially with languid Iommi-like leads scuzzing through monster tracks like In The Arms of Armageddon; but there’s more than meets your sacred ears. First proper track Halo of Flies looms large with a sturdy death n’ roll sound not too far removed from Edge of Sanity or Entombed, then they’ll slow it right down like we’re sloshing through a bayou on Abyssal Mausoleum, which fits into that cross-eyed, pickle-brained Eyehategod or Crowbar mould. Freewheeling jams are even thrown in (Unfurling Wings of Damnation) and it doesn’t take much to imagine thick reeds of green smoke curling around fretboards. With three guitarists in the mix, there’s new sonic nuggets to be unearthed on every listen. A monumental effort - can’t wait for their new album to drop within the month.

Sermon - Of Golden Verse

“Cinematic” - I suppose that word is overused in the same way “epic” is - but what is it about cinematic that people actually mean? Adam Sandler movies are released in a cinema. There they are, all flat lighting and boring locations. What I think people are trying to convey is the overwhelming force a cinematic experience can bring - expansive views, the translation of a titanic vision into moving pictures three times the size of our bodies. We are engulfed, immersed, mesmerised. Of Golden Verse is possessed of those qualities, even as drums march through Royal, dervish like as it pulses and speeds towards a near-carnal explosion of rage and melody. That’s hard to do in heavy metal; make it erotic insofar it touches at the core of our subliminal urges instead of our conscious desires. There are cues from all over prog and metaldom here, songs like Senescence’s minimal synths and yearning vocals recalling Agent Fresco, jazz-like riffs abounding like Soen by way of Katatonia. It hangs on with claws in your skin and refuses to let go, like any masterful album should. If you’re sleeping on these guys, wake the fuck up.

Melbourne’s weather (booooo) is more schizophrenic than usual these days, thanks to La Nina or El Nino or whatever it is. One day will be shiny and bright and the next gloomy as any black metal record you’d care to mention. It does mean more dependence on the ol’ automobile - which means more time spent listening to tunes. Fuck walking, right?

My usual process for choosing records in the six stacker is as follows - first delivered, first in. Except…I break this rule all the time, because I am an adult and can do what I like. Case in point is this Paramore album. I really like it.

Paramore - This Is Why

When’s the last time you heard a pop song - an honest to God pop song - with a guitar in it? If we’re not counting Coldplay (and we aren’t) Paramore are pop-rock’s final torchbearers in a world where hip-hop and EDM derivatives rule the airwaves - wi-fi encrypted or Marconi wireless, take your pick. Where St. Vincent channelled David Byrne (who she eventually collabed with) to express the absurdity of human feeling, Paramore kind of does the opposite. They take on acts like Television or Gang of Four by way of the confessional-pop of the 90s; think Friends with Benefits coining, Dave Coulier teddy bear bashing Alanis Morissette or the chamelonic and still brilliant Savage Garden. Instead of being totally un-relatable (Can’t say I ever went down on Dave Coulier) Hayley Williams breezes through jangly and raucous riffage to emerge at the other end in pain, Millennial style: “I hit the snooze on my alarm twenty times/I was just so tired,” she says, sighing. (Running Out of Time) The heartrending continues in a sultry, jazz inspired Liar, Williams lamenting the lies she made in order to love, something that wouldn’t completely sore thumb a Fleetwood Mac record. Sick of bad news? Me too - just turn it off, Hayley shouts as big drums back up her argument. (The News)

There’s some fun in there with Big Man, Little Dignity reminding one of the “nuts to the boys” songwriting of Cyndi Lauper (god, she really is great) or the brightly bashed out “nanananas” in C’est Comme Ça’s chorus, a slight return to Roxette although on a bit too much red cordial. The punk in their pop is post, sure. It’s a damn fine pop record - who knows when we might ever get another?

Sermon - The Birth of The Marvellous

When some dude ambles up to you and says “there’s this band you gotta check out, it’s a mix of X and Y” it’s usually a derivative of two generic (in the best way) bands - like Dream Theater and Helloween, because those two are the poster children for progressive and power metal. It’s not that hard, right? You know when things might be special (or a shameless derivative) if they namecheck two bands you adore - Katatonia and Tool. Two bars into opener The Descend and we’re treated to an brooding off-beat riff accompanied an angry baritone who’s making vague allusions to menacing patterns in the distance - this is 100% Katatonia meets Tool, in the best possible way. On this album at least, their chimera takes on a religious, near-Orphaned Land quality. The singer (anonymous on purpose) is a pitch-perfect blend of Jonas Renske and Maynard James Keenan - and instead of getting in your face like good metal is supposed to, it pares itself back to wide, expansive shots and subtle manoeuvres - think of it like Villeneuve’s Dune rather than Miller’s Mad Max Fury Road. Immersed in the black fluid of metal that it is, though it does rise out of the murk. As it breathes, rainbow swirls of prog emerge on its blessed head as if Steven Wilson had their ear at some point (he seems to haunt it through the ethereal choirs of Chasm.) It’s poignant, immersive stuff - if you enjoy any of the bands mentioned here, you’ll love it.

Xenobiotic - Mordrake

I was convinced this was released this year. Nope. Three god damn years ago, during the times we’d rather forget. Xenobiotic carry that Aussie death metal sound - you can’t mistake it these days, but it’s that death that verges on core and some will insist that it is ‘core. Think of bands like Thy Art Is Murder or Aversions Crown, possibly the finest practitioners of this weeping meaty art. (It is CORE you ASSHOLE!) A balance of brutality and introspection (Pianos? What the fuck?), Mordrake uses the vessel of death metal to espouse what cannot be spoken by words alone in a dissonant, off-kilter, and sometimes rapid-fire riff delivery (Archspire comes to mind.) When you’re in the pit, firing off poetry doesn’t matter too much because it’ll land somewhere in between heads going up and heads going down. The riff pummels it into us, and we’re thankful that it does. We won’t notice the sentiment, but our brains will.

Kamelot - The Awakening

When I heard the news today, oh boy - that being the sublime voice of Tommy Karevik leaving “prog” power metal act Seventh Wonder - I suppose it had to be done. Vampish OTT metallers Kamelot are kind of a big deal (outside of the US) and are touring most days out of the year. How can one clear-as-a-bell opera-adjacent singer like Karevik maintain himself as the master of two worlds? AND be a firefighter?

Kamelot is gothic in the same way the Twilight series is gothic. They’re cheesy in the same way Interview with the Vampire is cheesy. It’s like The Phantom of the Opera is a world that they alone inhabit and broadcast from. The result is high metal melodrama. It’s black eye make-up, leather pants, and constant chest beating on stage. If you aren’t on board, you will hate this. If you are, you will absolutely fucking love everything they do. The pomp, the pageantry, the pizzazz.

One More Flag In The Ground is built for arenas; announcing itself with the chorus, guitars and keys marching towards certain oblivion - but don’t worry, we’re the hero in this story. We always are, which makes it so endearing. You can’t deny their musicianship and the fact they defy power metal convention just enough to keep fresh. There aren’t many exceptional Kamelot albums among their body of thirteen discs (The Fourth Legacy and The Black Halo) but there are seldom any shit ones (Sorry, Ghost Opera). If you play the game. Which I tip you don’t.

Black Royal - Earthbound

Just like how antipodes worship the same thing - the Welsh and the Chinese both revering dragons, for one - here enters Black Royal, Finnish retro stoner death n’ roll to make up a convoluted PR genre. I had thought, like a FOOL, that Aussies had cornered that market with stellar acts such as Black Rheno, Goat Shaman, and Colossvs. Black Royal burst on the scene with 2020s’ implacable Firebride and continue their descent into madness in Earthbound. Guitars boulder down stoner mountainsides emulating the lurch of swampy muthas Eyehategod (Earthbound) and amp up the energy when needed in a double-time swing - songs like 13th Moon could even give Kvelertak a run for their krona. Don’t worry, my Suomi lovers, you get your god damn Hammond-drenched Amorphis clone in Phoenix Ascending. Light a doob and have a toke - it’s what the bear on the front would have wanted.

The Six Stacker - No Quarter Given