No appreciable evolution over last time, but still ugly trudge-laden aural misanthropy.
They refined Carving Out the Eyes of God‘s formula by just a hair of a blade– but they’re still an evil death metal Motörhead.
Ho13 always make the bottom of the year-end lists for me. Well written, unambitious traditional doom rock.
Oozing stoner-y doom with a bit of Celtic Frost worship.
Witchsorrow if they drank hard liquor and beer and smoked less weed.
Blackened Sludge; the only thing outright uglier than this record is no. 13 below.
Again, a hairline refinement (in this case simplicity) for the kings of polymeter/ polyrhythm thinking (wo)man’s extreme music.
UGLY. Worse than last time. The industrial grindcore of black metal.
Southern Lord (the label) blues; Tom Waits jams with Greg Anderson.
Ripped-out Fangoria pages strewn across fresh asphalt, being pressed into the muck by a steamroller: The band.
Hated it at first, went to Colorado and then Washington and learned exactly what this album is for, and why it is the perfect Dalí plays Dark Side of the Moon-esque material for those states.
As catchy as black metal gets; nearly psychedelic in its sonic randomness and anarchy.
They got heavier while still keeping the psychedelic stoner mood of Warp Riders. The concepts running lyrically through this concept album are fascinating.
Pharmaceutical grade stoner metal.
The first muscular, melodic mature-yet-furious thrash metal record I’ve heard in years.
Hour of 13 + Witchsorrow + Elder = Windhand. Occult traditional stoner doom metal. Psychedelic yet sinister. Evil hippies. Evil hippies who are “just into the religion of love, man… love of Satan….”
Beautifully-written, gracefully arranged 70s-ish occult rock, with a vocalist who can go from cold, crystal-clear, taunting malice to roaring disdain– and still stay have melody running all up in this motherfucker.
What death/grind is supposed to be: musically complex yet logically arranged extreme music that can change from blisteringly-fast to Inception-the-third-dream-deep slow– that is also lyrically both literate and surprisingly shocking. Kudos especially to vocalist Travis Ryan for being streets ahead of every other extreme metal singer: there were so many different variations in the vocals it sounded like all of Milton’s “thousand demi-gods on golden seats” got a shot at roaring.