Filmed during their monumental performance at Vagos Metal Fest alongside The Purgatory Orchestra, this special performance captures one of the most ambitious moments in the band’s history, merging crushing metal with powerful orchestral arrangements in a dark and cinematic live experience. The concert served as a special preview of the Hubris album before the pandemic, […]

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Montreal punk four-piece FakeYou are set to release their debut full-length album Promise to Disappear Friday, April 3, on Atlanta-based 59 X Records. Playing on the concept of a “promise to appear”, that formal obligation to show up when summoned, Promise to Disappear explores various forms of disappearance as a means of survival in a world of increasing conformity and homogeneity, whether manifesting as fractured identity, negation of self, or a slow descent into less-than-ideal coping mechanisms. Melding the fuzzy grit of grunge and emo with the zeal of pop-punk and the clever sophistications of alt rock, the punk quartet has created an album that, layered under vocalist Guillaume Menard’s throaty vocals, emerges as a heavy, sincere and ultimately, deeply recognizable treatise on who we are and who we are allowed to be. Powerful, organic and encompassing as any instant classic, Promise to Disappear is one of this year’s standout releases from a band that are quickly becoming ones to watch.

The record settles comfortably into itself with gauzy, mellow opener “Wanderlost”, under hazy layers of guitar propelled by a rolling beat. Caught between disillusionment and alienation, the journeys we embark on as we begin to wander off the path of convention will force us to consider how– and if – we want to be seen.

From there, we are led across the album’s ten tracks through a labyrinthine funhouse of feelings as the band sorts through the myriad manifestations of confusion and pain. Time slows on lead single “Tieluck”, an amber-trapped study of the only holdover in a small town quietly slipping into obsolescence, and spins twilight into an endless day on the breathless, lurching “100 Million Sheep”, rhythmic switches mirroring the uneasy cadence of being tugged in and out of a half-sleep. When it all becomes too much to bear, vanishing acts take the form of refuge in addiction on the beautifully harmonious and deceptively upbeat “Solace”, quick comforts for the desperate and lonely that take a dark and poisonous turn. Our emotional wreckage eventually washes up on the shoes of the jeering, semitonal “Like Helium Balloons”, stripped down to a shouting chorus taunting the listener for having been abandoned by their better angels in a pointless quest for the truth.

Even the record’s more uplifting songs are tinged with melancholy, though no less with meaning. For those suffering the acute pains of heartbreak or burdened by the heavy impress of despair, there is the soft, emo-infused “Midnight Sun”, a gentle reminder that those less-than-ideal moments that make the nights feel endless are not everlasting. Disappearance can be graceful, it seems, when we are allowed to drop the exhausting pretense of perfection and settle a little bit more into who we really are.

Extensive meditations on love, loss and life tend to serve as fertile ground for existentialism, and it all finally comes to a head on the rollicking pop-punk “Spitshine”, from its jaunty opening bass lick through to the throat-ripping chorus outro: the song’s final moments find Menard’s control wrested away from him by his howling alter ego, whatever sensible opinion that might have been had on the meaning of life ultimately giving way to the sweet release of no longer caring at all. It certainly is no antidote, but as we have learned, we tend to take our comforts in whatever form they come.

Each song on Promise to Disappear pulls in a different way at the fabric of what it means to be human, unravelling the threads of personal experience and spinning them into familiar shapes. Love and loss, anger and confusion, the cruel distortions of time, the pains of separation: Promise to Disappear takes the intemporal, intangible, constantly shifting agitation of being alive and weaves it into a common and shareable language that permeates the boundaries of our individual selves, recounting the exhaustion of our endless negotiation with life in a vocabulary common to us all. Menard’s rhythm and LeBrun’s lead guitars twist and wind around each other in an intricate lattice of harmonies and countermelodies that layer over bassist Jay Changizi’s deft and melodious basslines to create a sound that is stunningly lush and deep, the perfect backdrop for Menard’s keen and incisive lyrics. The alternation of heavy riffs with sparse, porous bridges creates a pulse that radiates through the album like a living organism. What results is an record whose bracing depth and vulnerability are its most enduring assets.

From scene veterans with an uncompromising dedication to their craft comes a meticulously crafted and dazzlingly executed debut record. Be sure to head over to the group’s Bandcamp to stream Promise to Disappear or snag a copy of it on gorgeous butter-yellow vinyl. If you’re lucky enough to have a foot in the door of Montreal’s thriving underground, you can catch one of their electric live performances here and in the surrounding neighbourhoods throughout the spring and summer.

The Philadelphia duo Deathbird Earth have drawn descriptions of being a modernized Hawkwind, but they’re more the torrential Hawkwind of a dying planet. Though this central duo was always orbiting around each other in prior bands such as Hulk Smash, Dialer, Psychic Teens, and Ghloas, Deathbird Earth is their first expression of a hellish resource rapture in métallique. They take their first steps into it on their debut album, Objective Consciousness, on April 3, but we’re premiering it a day early. Check it out below. 

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Objective Consciousness is a sci-fi soundscape for those who want more gravitas and can tolerate a little anxiety. “Take My Blood” and “Christchurch 281” open with the orbital sonic vertigo and the record’s doomed lyrical concerns. There is no way up, no way down, and the pressure of the bass and drums tells there is no reason to turn back. “Mission – Planet Y” then builds upon this with a glib but relentless embrace of pulp sci-fi frills and prog structure featuring Yanni Papadopoulous, Philadelphia local of Stinking Lizaveta fame. The long, restless sessions that produced Objective Consciousness have no lack of collaborators as guitar savant Nick Millevoi also features on the eponymous track “Mission: Nick Millevoi.” 

“I’d rather die than never try,” are Objective Consciousness’s watchwords, emerging on “Dead Hands” with a nihilistic response. That doom and noise soundscape, phosphorescent with black-body radiation sci-fi sound cues, is at its best here. Yet, the uncaring cannibalism of “Resources 2.0” makes it the standout track as it shows the machine becoming necessary to navigate the greater interior and greater exterior. Nothing overstays its welcome as the “Time” sequence, which concludes the album, graphs out. These final three tracks, “Time I” to “Time III”, are a lyrical and conceptual statement. Objectuve Consciousness’s abyss-burnt heart, screaming out through a compression-shell, resolves here. Human concerns terminate against an alien philosophy in production. 

The sense of Objective Consciousness, partially glimpsed through the looming cover illustration by Jess Feld, is a Gothic astronaut of twisted form lost in an exhausted urbanscape-overlaid-hellscape. There is a familiarity to the fantasy, but the screams tell this is not Major Tom. Meaningless in the end! But against what meaning? Deathbird Earth’s Objective Consciousness invites the listeners out there (out anywhere!) to explore their own uncanny ruin. Are you receiving this transmission?

–William Pauper

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Objective Consciousness is available April 3^rd via SRA Records.

“In The Name Of The Father” will be out this April.

The post Vomit Forth Sign With Pure Noise Records, Debut “Prophecy Of Defilement” Video From Their Upcoming EP appeared first on Theprp.com.

Former Turnstile guitarist Brady Ebert was arrested on attempted murder charges Tuesday. In a shocking twist to an already startling story, Ebert is accused of intentionally striking 79-year-old William Yates, the father of Turnstile frontman Brendan Yates, with his car outside Yates’ home. The elder Yates told authorities it was one of several altercations between himself and Ebert since the guitarist’s departure from Turnstile in 2022.

The post Turnstile Share Statement On Arrest Of Ex-Guitarist For Attempted Murder Of Singer’s Father appeared first on Stereogum.

Hailing from the darkened cobblestoned corridors of Vilnius, Lithuania, Sisyphean, while black metal at heart, offers much more than the status quo on their newest full-length album, Divergence. First forming in 2012 under the name Division before settling on Sisyphean in 2014, they apply a much more dissonant approach to their riffing without sacrificing the blackened foundations or the essence of a composed song, not to mention the vocals are absolutely venomous. It’s the kind of formula that would be right at home in the repertoire of any number of Icelandic bands–think Sinmara or Svartidauthi–with some Suffering Hour spice thrown in for good measure, and the songs never feel like you’re doing calculus homework. We’re premiering Divergence before it releases tomorrow. Stream it below. 

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Clocking in at 42 minutes, Divergence is easily digestible and goes by deceptively quickly. With that said, it never morphs into background noise or becomes boring; across my several listens, I was struck by at least one standout moment on every song. Among these are the meaner-than-fuck first riff at the start of “Stupor Mundi”, the guitar solo in the back half of “Black Bird That Brings No Joy”, and the explosive first two minutes of “In Divergence.” Zooming out a bit, everything flows nicely. Clearly, Sisyphean had pacing in mind and were laser-focused on maintaining it. Divergence rewards multiple listens and reveals each song’s identity over time, but as a whole, provides a fresh and engaging approach to black metal that never loses its teeth or becomes muddled in its delivery; that, at its core, is still ferocious, razor-sharp, and compelling.

–Eric Wing

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Divergence releases tomorrow via Edged Circle Productions.

“We have no language left for Brady” Turnstile say following shock arrest of founding guitarist Ebert

The post Are Ghosts Real? The Truth Behind the World’s Creepiest Encounters appeared first on Edgar Allan Poets – Noir Rock Band.

Does Void of Light refer to a source of luminescence, or is it shorthand for its total absence? The group might know something about the latter, hailing as they do from the northerly latitude of Glasgow, Scotland. Their musical medium—a sludgy, atmospheric post-metal—also reflects a dichotomous embodiment of light and dark: often crushingly heavy and thematically bleak, but also upliftingly melodic. Asymmetries—another nod to duality and imbalance—is a debut four years in the making, drawing together the fragments of brutality and reflective ambience from the preceding EPs into a bold statement on who Void of Light are. And decisive that statement certainly is.

Void of Light’s approach to post-metal is rich and dynamic, layering leaden riffing, melancholic melody, and flexible tempos around one another to augment the music’s ability to captivate. Strikingly, flatteringly akin to Deadly Carnage in the expert intermingling of delicacy and harshness (“Still the Night Skies”) and an ever-evolving rhythm, the album flows gracefully. Dips into The Ocean of steady, progressive builds, tangles with LLNN-levels of skull-bashing heaviness (“Mirrorings”), and even flirtation with black metal (“Ends,” “Mirrorings”) compliment a nuanced, emotional soundscape with heart and bite.

The magnetism of Asymmetries is felt gradually and with progressive strength, like approaching a planet’s gravitational field. Things begin almost understatedly in “The Passing Hours,” with a loose, modulated melody and a steady onward crush that only hints at the depths to come. That is, before the final act gives the game away when soft singing gives way to a jubilant guitar solo over the rush of blackened percussion: a dramatic backdrop for the final reprise. These soaring, energetic guitar lines weave in and out across the record, communicating joy and bittersweet blueness as they variously dance (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and float (“The Passing Hours,” “Still the Night Skies”) over the comparative bluntness. Gentle (“The Passing Hours,” “Ends”) and impassioned (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”) cleans add still more layers of emotion as they move in pitch and volume with or in brilliant opposition to the instrumentation, and equally ardent screams (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies”). None of this would be half as stirring, however, were it not wrapped around the multidimensional rhythmic core that spills over from the percussion to riffs and vocals alike. Rippling fills and agile rolls thread texture upon which singing floats or screams rain down (“The Passing Hours,” “Mirrorings”). Frequent slides into snappy off-beats (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and impressively rich, cascading blackened tirades (“Ends,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”)—the kind you’d expect from Panopticon—intensify already incendiary peaks where aforementioned guitars dance or soar.

Asymmetries, as a name, can only be used complimentarily here; perhaps the worst that could be said is that the album might get even better as it progresses. If I had to be incredibly harsh, I would point to the oft-repeated pattern of songs lapsing midway into stripped-back plucking and singing before the reprise of heaviness. Even then, songs don’t sound the same, and the formula is an effective conduit for tension and emotion, formula though it may be. Really, though, Asymmetries feels ideally formed and structured to deliver the maximum impact as it is: the rhythms growing more fluid and restless, the layers of sung and screamed vocals more multiplicitous, and the returning spaces of poignant ambience serving to gradually dial up the pathos as well as the more tangible force of the riffs, drumbeats, and roars. If the ascendant singing in the final act of “Silver Mask” lifts you up, wait until “Still the Night Skies,” and the cascading multitracking on “Mirrorings”. If “The Passing Hours” jolts you into attention with its final forcefulness, wait until the sudden savagery that closes “Ends” and then how the following songs stack this ardour with that singing, and the consistently gorgeous waves of clear and hazy melody.

Asymmetries’ power was not instantly obvious, but with every listen its grip grew tighter and the sky around it lost its colours as they were drawn into the void. Void of Light effectively communicate a dichotomy between light and shadow in their sad, uplifting, harsh, fragile debut. And if this is where they’re starting from, then heads, hearts, and score-safety-counters everywhere will need to watch out in the future.

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Rating: Great!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Ripcord Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

The post Void of Light – Asymmetries Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Organisers are giving one band the opportunity to step onto the altar and ignite the chaos. This is your chance to perform at Necrosonic Festival 2026 alongside 30 heavy acts in front of a live crowd that came for one thing: volume. WHAT YOU WIN • Your Band OPENS Necrosonic Festival 2026 • Perform on […]