Thundermother .
The post Thundermother share video for track “Hellevator” from upcoming live record ‘Live’N’Alive’ first appeared on Sleaze Roxx.
Spanish melodic heavy metal band Dünedain will arrive in Murcia on February 28 as part of their highly anticipated national run, the “Érase Tour 2026”, in support of their latest album Érase.
The concert will take place at Garaje Beat Club, one of the city’s key live music venues in Murcia, and is expected to be one of the season’s standout metal events in the region.
Following successful opening shows across Spain, Dünedain embark on this tour at one of the strongest moments of their career. The setlist will combine songs from their new era(marked by a more mature and epic sound) alongside essential classics from their previous releases, in a performance that usually runs well over 90 minutes.
Over the years, the Salamanca-based band has established itself as one of the most relevant contemporary heavy metal acts in Spain, blending melody, power and highly sing-along choruses that connect strongly with audiences in a live setting.
Tickets are currently available in advance through the official online ticketing platform:
https://woutick.com/es/entradas/dunedain-murcia
Listen to Dünedain:
The post Dünedain to Perform in Murcia on the “Érase Tour 2026” first appeared on FemMetal – Goddesses of Metal.
Crashdïet .
The post Crashdïet drop new single “Sick Enough For Me” first appeared on Sleaze Roxx.

From Marta Gabriel Facebook:
LEATHERWITCH, new Heavy Metal band formed by vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Marta Gabriel, signed a multiple record deal with Listenable Records. The very first video and single, “Beast Inside”, will have its premiere on March 5, 2026. It has been mixed by Olof Wikstrand (ENFORCER), and features special guest, guitarist Giuseppe Taormina (ELLENDE, ex-CRYSTAL VIPER).
Pre-save the single: https://bfan.link/LEATHERWITCH-beast-inside
Marta Gabriel disbanded her band CRYSTAL VIPER in the fall of 2025. The band toured in more than 20 countries, conquered the stages of major festivals such as Wacken Open Air, Hellfest and Keep It True, and left a legacy of 9 studio albums. CRYSTAL VIPER’s farewell live album titled “The Live Quest”, came out last June.
In the Spring of 2025 Gabriel toured with the Japanese Heavy Metal act METALUCIFER, as a bassist on their “Heavy Metal Anniversary” Tour in Europe, and flew to Tokyo, Japan, for two exclusive live shows as a solo artist.
Follow LEATHERWITCH:
http://www.facebook.com/leatherwitchofficial
http://www.instagram.com/leatherwitchofficial
Follow MARTA GABRIEL:
http://www.facebook.com/martagabrielofficial
http://www.instagram.com/martagabrielofficial


Bassist Mike Leon announces his departure from CKY, pointing to “toxicity” and internal issues tied to frontman Chad I Ginsburg.
The post MIKE LEON Quits CKY: "I Have Never Experienced This Level Of Toxicity From An Individual" appeared first on Metal Injection.
Swedish melodic death metal mainstays At The Gates have announced their next studio album, The Ghost Of A Future Dead, due on 04/24/2026 through Century Media Records.
The record follows 2021’s The Nightmare of Being and arrives under difficult circumstances, serving as a tribute to late frontman Tomas Lindberg, who passed away in September 2025.
According to the album announcement, The Ghost Of A Future Dead was recorded and mixed by Jens Bogren at Fascination Street Studios in Örebro, Sweden, with artwork by Robert Samsonowitz.
Alongside the announcement, At The Gates have released the opening track, “The Fever Mask,” as the first single. The song is also accompanied by an in-memory tribute video for Tomas Lindberg, assembled by longtime collaborator Patric Ullaeus.
Pre-order the album here.
The band shared a detailed statement about the album, and it makes clear how closely the project was shaped around Tomas Lindberg’s vision: “We are proud to finally share some news about our eighth studio album, The Ghost Of A Future Dead. The album will be released on April 24, 2026 — more than two years after it was completed in the studio. As you all know, Tomas Lindberg passed away last year due to complications from his cancer treatment. Over the past few years, we worked closely with Tomas, discussing and refining every detail to ensure nothing was left to chance.”
“In accordance with Tomas’s wishes — including the album title, sound mix, track order, artwork, and overall presentation — The Ghost Of A Future Dead remains true to form. It combines the ferocious energy and hard-hitting, powerful melodies that are the essence of At The Gates. This album is Tomas’s legacy”.
At The Gates also explained why “The Fever Mask” became the obvious choice to lead the campaign: “‘The Fever Mask’ was one of the final songs written for the album and quickly stood out as the natural choice for both the opening track and the first single for The Ghost Of A Future Dead. It perfectly captures the essence of At The Gates, blending raw energy, strong melody, and beautiful lyrics by Tomas.”

The Ghost of a Future Dead will be available in the following formats:
In either standard, unlimited black vinyl or in the following limited coloured vinyl editions (with an additional poster):
The post AT THE GATES Announce New Album “The Ghost Of A Future Dead, Share Music Video For New Single “The Fever Mask” appeared first on Sonic Perspectives.
What was I supposed to do?
Never any calm before the rain comes
Don’t check the mailbox
I couldn’t find the message and I made a big mistake
Julian Ash once trafficked in sleek, sleaze-laced synth shadows with his former project Harsh Symmetry, but under his latest guise, Omnihell, he kicks open a different door and lets in the cruel daylight — the kind that reveals stains in the carpet and lipstick on the collar. The project’s debut LP, Extreme Suffering, carries a title poised between anguish and a straight-faced joke delivered without a blink. Here, Ash steps forward, voice high in the mix, posture squared, the songs draped in analogue threads that hum and wobble as if they’ve been living hard since 1979.
He’s rummaging through proto-punk bones and 70s/80s alternative attic boxes, pulling out jangling guitars, brittle drum machines, and organs that sigh like old theater curtains. It’s not gothic in the cape-and-candles sense; it’s closer to a late-night confession and wiped off by morning. The presentation has a wink, a little conceptual theatre, but the pulse here is flesh-and-blood songwriting. Sophisticated, sure. Elegant, even. Still beating.
Reminded opens the wound politely. A man circling the memory of a strong-willed woman, replaying half-remembered scenes like a film with missing reels. He swears he never hid, but he’s pinned to the past like a butterfly under glass. The post-punk guitar snaps into place, jangly bassline skipping under his croon, and suddenly you’re in The Smiths territory: heart on sleeve, collar up, chin trembling in the rain. Ash sings like he’s holding the photograph too close to his face.
Then comes Omniscium, devotion turned devotional hazard. He offers up soul, time, life itself for one more night. Sleepless, bargaining beneath metaphorical knives, intimacy equated with sacrifice. The hook climbs high and clean, the synths hovering with that 80s ache, and the song strides straight into Echo and the Bunnymen and The Colourfield country. It’s romantic theatre with a cracked mirror backstage.
Kurushimi, the oblique title track—its name translating to “pain,” “suffering,” “anguish,” or “hardship”—anchors the album as its uneasy centerpiece, revealing a subtly altered musical posture. Crisis paralysis. Overlooked warnings. Unopened messages. “Never any calm before the rain.” An ominous forecast from Omnihell, issued in a David Sylvian-caliber croon. The piano-and-bass-driven groove wears a jaunty, almost breezy mask, its wistful tone recalling rainfall against a windowsill. It could also slip comfortably into a Terry Hall set without raising an eyebrow. Regardless, Ash leans into the song’s melodic beauty with composure and control—poised, precise, quietly devastating.
On the next track, “Like Cathedrals,” love buckles beneath the burden of what goes unsaid. Devotion burns low. Time borrowed, then squandered. A marching, clockwork beat presses the song forward, drums crisp and declarative. The bridge opens like a sudden clearing, and the vocals stretch upward in a way that recalls Dead Can Dance: solemn, spacious, reaching for something holy even as it falls apart.
Leeches slinks in on a darker bassline, dependency and resentment locked in a clinch. He clings, he accuses, he pleads. Pride tangles with need. The track dips into deathrock hues before exploding into a wide chorus that feels almost triumphant in its bitterness. The Chameleons hover over this one, that sense of emotional altitude riding above the fray.
With War, heartbreak becomes enlistment. He pledges life and death to a cause already lost. The organ synths glow softly against a waltz backbeat, giving the whole thing a strange carousel sway. Jeff Buckley by way of The Smiths, with a carnival haze that tilts the room. Ash’s singing here is open, exposed, every syllable placed with care.
Six Legs is the party crasher. Social climbers skittering like insects, all money and mouth. He spits the satire with relish, guitars snapping in Chameleons/Gang of Four formation. There’s even a flash of Suicide in the mechanical undercurrent. It’s sharp, pointed, and just a little mean.
Freeze slows the blood. Grief was locking him in place after terrible news. Love as damage, guilt as frostbite. The production bends and warps, sound bending inward on itself. It brings Aztec Camera to mind, that sense of heartbreak wrapped in melody. Ash sounds stunned, like he’s just opened the letter.
Then the curtain jerks open for Burn, Heretic! – military march at the outset, all rigid rhythm, before the chorus flips into pure 1950s doo-wop drama. Roy Orbison hovers in the rafters. There’s even a whisper of Angelo Badalamenti and David Lynch in the air, something cinematic and slightly unhinged. A visionary condemned by the mob, pride crumbling into panic. It’s theatrical, bold, and it works.
I’m Unsalvageable drifts in on a bassline that nods to MGMT, riding a late-70s–early-80s yacht rock glide. Alienation, financial strain, self-loathing dressed up as self-knowledge. Rat, opossum, vermin. He watches everyone else reinvent themselves while he treads water. The groove is deceptively smooth, the self-assessment brutal.
And finally, “Stings (Suffering)” circles the ache of unresolved attachment. Daydreams reopen wounds; absence equates with erasure. “Cold steel” between the eyes. The melody loops back on itself like a question never answered. Ash lets it hang there, no grand finale, just the quiet persistence of feeling.
Extreme Suffering feels like a man rifling through his own archive and finding songs where others might find excuses. Julian Ash steps out from the sleek silhouette of Harsh Symmetry and plants himself in full view. There’s style, and a sense of play, but also a willingness to stand still and sing the thing straight. Pain dressed in pop clothing; regret set to rhythm…a debut that walks tall in worn boots and knows exactly where it’s been.
Bravo.
Listen to Extreme Suffering below and order the album here.
Follow Omnihell:

The post “Never Any Calm Before the Rain” — Julian Ash Descends into Omnihell and Finds Beauty in “Extreme Suffering” appeared first on Post-Punk.com.
Yes — but his reasoning is about creative identity and band chemistry, not a dismissal of later success.
Alex Van Halen says Van Halen’s best work happened with David Lee Roth
He explains why his book Brothers ends in 1984, calling that era the band’s true “spirit”
He argues sales and chart dominance don’t automatically mean more creativity
He credits Roth’s volatility and the band’s internal friction as the heat source that made the early years unique
He says later eras had good music, but insists it wasn’t the same band identity
He’s still respectful toward Roth personally, even if their relationship isn’t what it once was.
Alex isn’t doing the cheap thing where a legacy artist rewrites history to farm nostalgia clicks. He’s doing something more specific, and honestly more dangerous: he’s defining “best” as a mix of spirit, risk, and identity — not Billboard positions or how many units moved at the mall.
In the interview with Brazil’s Kazagastão (via BLABBERMOUTH.NET), he’s blunt. He’s basically saying: the early version of Van Halen wasn’t just a lineup, it was a chemical reaction. The first model had the “balls to the wall,” the reckless confidence, the confusion, the ego, the hunger, the noise, the velocity — and that combination doesn’t repeat just because the logo stays the same.
And he takes a direct shot at the myth that bigger sales automatically mean better art. In his framing, selling more can simply mean you learned how to sell more. That isn’t bitterness. That’s a guy separating commerce from creation.
Alex’s reasoning has stayed consistent across the coverage: Brothers ends where he believes the original band’s spirit ends.
This part matters because fans often hear “I stopped at 1984” and translate it as “I’m pretending the rest didn’t happen.” That’s not what he’s saying.
He’s saying the book is a very specific emotional project: a way to close open loops in his own head, and to place Eddie’s story inside a frame that still feels like Eddie and Alex together in the same shared mission.
To Alex, later years are a different narrative with different pressures, different expectations, and a different center of gravity. He’s not denying those years. He’s refusing to tell them inside the same emotional container.

This is the most interesting part, because it’s the part most bands won’t admit.
Alex basically argues that Roth’s restlessness — the thing people call chaos — was also a creative engine. One day it’s one vision, the next day it’s something else. That can be a nightmare. But it can also be the spark.
Alex describes the early dynamic like a controlled fire: contradiction and conflict that created heat. Take away friction and you don’t get “peace,” you get inert. You get safe. You get predictable. And predictable is death for a band that built itself on shock and swagger.
That’s not a romantic take. It’s the truth about groups that make history. The tension is part of the sound.
If you read Alex carefully, the sharpest line isn’t “Hagar wasn’t good.” The sharpest line is “that wasn’t the same band.”
He’s explicitly on record saying he’s not making it “better or worse.” He’s saying the magic came from the early years when they didn’t know what they were doing and were willing to try anything.
That’s a philosophical position, not a scoreboard argument. He’s not debating hit totals. He’s defining what he believes Van Halen was.
Alex also returns to something Eddie reportedly felt too: the band was sometimes happier in clubs than in the so-called big time, because clubs are where uncertainty lives.
In clubs you can pivot. You can test. You can crash. You can change direction without an army of expectations waiting to judge you. It’s intimate, it’s immediate, and it’s dangerous in the right way.
Then the machine arrives.
Big stages introduce distance. Security and scale introduce layers. And even if the band keeps it minimal, the mere existence of those layers changes behavior. The room gets less human. The stakes get more corporate. Creativity has to fight harder to stay alive.
That doesn’t mean the music after was bad. It means the environment that created the earliest magic was gone.
Most fans treat Roth vs. Hagar like a sports argument. Alex is treating it like an identity argument.
He’s saying: you can keep the name, but you can’t always keep the same soul.
And that’s why this keeps landing like a punch, even decades later. Because it’s not just him picking a favorite singer. It’s him declaring what he believes the band’s core DNA actually was.
If you’re reading this on NewsBreak and you want the full Van Halen catalog in your ears while you scroll, I keep the Loaded Radio stream on in the background most days — it’s the easiest way to fall into these rabbit holes without even trying.
Alex’s tone becomes more human when he talks about Dave as a person.
He suggests Roth is laying low, admits he doesn’t know Dave’s mental state, and acknowledges time changes people. But he also says if Dave called, he’d answer. That’s not drama bait. That’s dignity.
He’s basically saying: whatever happened, I’m not going to reduce this to petty revenge. Relationships were deeply entangled. Respect still matters.

Because it’s not just a nostalgia line.
It’s an artist drawing a boundary around the myth.
Alex is telling fans, in plain language: the version of Van Halen you fell in love with was a particular combination of people, time, youth, risk, and friction. That combination doesn’t come back because you want it to.
And when a founding member says “we did our best work with Dave,” he isn’t just ranking eras. He’s putting a headstone on a feeling.
That’s why people react so intensely.
Yes. He directly says the band did its best work with Dave, and frames the early era as the peak of the band’s spirit and creative magic.
Because he believes the original band’s “spirit” ends there, and he views the early years as the true rock-and-roll core of what Van Halen was. He’s also described Brothers as his way of closing personal chapters tied to Eddie.
No. He repeatedly avoids calling it worse. He says good music was made, but argues it was not the same band identity and that the “magic” belonged to the first years.
He’s separating commercial scale from creative peak. His point is that selling more can reflect stronger marketing reach or momentum, not necessarily deeper creativity.
Because he believes tension is part of creativity. Roth’s restless personality and the band’s internal contradictions created heat, and that heat helped generate the early-era spark.
Yes. Even while acknowledging distance and change, he says he would answer the phone if Dave called, emphasizing dignity and respect.
He’s indicated he wasn’t interested and didn’t feel the approach did the band justice, reinforcing his belief that Van Halen’s true identity was tied to the original chemistry.

Van Halen formed in Pasadena, California and became one of the most influential hard rock bands in history by detonating a new blueprint: virtuosic guitar innovation, arena-sized hooks, and a wild frontman energy that turned shows into events. The classic lineup — Eddie Van Halen, Alex Van Halen, David Lee Roth, and Michael Anthony — broke through in the late 1970s and defined a sound that reshaped rock radio and inspired generations of players.
Eddie’s two-handed tapping, tone, and rhythmic swing became a language that entire subgenres borrowed from, while Alex’s punchy, swinging power behind the kit gave the band its locomotive feel. After Roth’s departure, Sammy Hagar fronted the band through a massively successful era that produced multiple chart-topping albums and a more melodic, stadium-polished approach. Across eras, the Van Halen name became synonymous with high-level musicianship, bigger-than-life performance, and a catalog that still divides fans precisely because it meant different things to different people — and it all started with that original spark.
The post Alex Van Halen Reveals Why Van Halen’s Best Work Was With David Lee Roth appeared first on Loaded Radio.