Articles by Matt Butler
Monolord have outdone themselves here. They stand in mirrored sunglasses, flared jeans and Satanic Feminist T-shirts astride the roof of the doom world.
Turns out Steve Davis is not only good at snooker. He and his two collaborators Kavus Torabi and Michael York got together to jam and the result is a woozy, cosmic testament to the benefits of spontaneity.
When music crafted this well is paired with heart-on-sleeve reflections of a man contemplating his own mortality… well, then we have some magic.
Name me a fan of heavy music over 35 that hasn’t drank more than necessary while listening to Anthrax’s Persistence of Time. War Curse rekindle the joy from that golden age of thrash.
Premiere of a huge, slow, affecting song, originally recorded in 2012, from cerebral drone doom duo.
Aephanemer, with their rousing, upbeat take on melodic death metal, remind you of just how much fun this stuff can be
The combination of gorgeous, dreamy melody, angelic vocals, mammoth guitar hooks and a heavy, heavy rhythm section drags out of your core a sense of nostalgia or longing so strong that it almost hurts.
Desecravity do technical death metal as it should be done: dizzyingly, quickly, furiously – but with the musicianship and songwriting to make it monstrously heavy and yet still listenable.
It is difficult to know where to start with a body of work as intimidating and weighty (not to mention heavy) as this. It is phenomenally affecting and the title alone makes the listener think about the gradual destruction that humans are inflicting on the earth.
You hear these epic, operatic choruses and you swear that you can flex your magically enormous biceps and real lightning will actually shoot out of your fingertips.
OHHMS are are like nothing on earth; huge, unnerving and loud. But this album, with biting, powerful lyrics concerned with animal rights, is a triumph.
A refreshed, revitalised Soulfly give the people what they want in Max Cavalera’s best release in ages.
An album of riffs which are massive and majestic, at once conjuring mental images of barren space-scapes and a big-sky desert wilderness.
In these times of deep division between the entitled and the rest of us, of walls growing between races, genders, neighbourhoods and nations, this fantastic version of Pink Floyd’s classic encapsulates people’s fears and anger.
It is worrying when a band say they want to confound expectations. But after All Them Witches’ sprawling previous album, this is probably a natural reaction for the band – to dial things back a little.
Krisiun are back to their blisteringly fast signature sound and it is a good thing.
The gargantuan riffs, the cavernous drums, the ominous tone of the guitar and bass – not to mention the dry rasp of the vocals – send this album way past brooding, miles on from sullen, beyond malevolent and to the border of bloody terrifying.
Like riffs? Melody? Albums with a mammoth on the cover? You’re in luck. This strikes a perfect balance between heavy and crowd-pleasingly melodic.
This is great. From the visceral thump that introduces the opening track to the barrage of the final number, it is a heartfelt, if occasionally bleak, listen.
The ideal soundtrack to toasting life’s little triumphs… like getting out of the house, making a decent coffee and refraining from calling the boss an arrogant dickhead.
Drenched in shimmering riffs from the 1960s and full of enthusiasm, this is a record for listening to while driving on the coast in the sun.