Tyrannus inhabit the no man’s land between thrash metal, death metal, and black metal, packing a punch while eluding genre conventions. The miasma they cultivate is pungent, but on their new single “ Reignfall,” they cut through it for a more direct method. That’s usually the best one for offense. On “Reignfall,” the Scottish trio commits to thrash metal to take aim at, well, you can infer that from the song’s title. Watch the video below.
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As the first single from Tyrannus’ upcoming sophomore record Mournhold, “Reignfall” flaunts sharp riffs, barking vocals, and a tangible anger derived from this realm, shedding the veils of metaphor, allusion, and symbolism. It’s as if you could hold it in your hands. It also helps that, as a straight-up thrash track, it rips. In the music video, the Cthuluian creature watching the band perform cannot believe its auditory orifices. The jury is out on whether it has ears. You’d assume Tyrannus burned them off with their frenetic soloing. For the most part, Mournhold is more extreme than “Reignfall.” The trio explores darker and more ornate regions there, yet “Reignfall” shows that they are, above all other descriptors and niches, a metal band.
The band comments:
“Reignfall” is the opening statement of Mournhold, leaning heavily into our thrash roots to make something distinctly Tyrannus. It’s us at our most focused, fastest and aggressive; both musically and lyrically, and sets the tone for everything that will follow.
Oh boy. Where does one even start with Morning Star? I’ve been a fan of Këkht Aräkh since the Night & Love tape dropped on Livor Mortis in 2019, and I championed Pale Swordsman off the strength of its first single, so seeing the scene shift regarding this record, the project’s third, has been jarring, to put it lightly. Night & Love and Pale Swordsman both featured what was, at the time, a refreshing and intimate take on black metal that resonated during COVID. Then, Këkht Aräkh’s presentation shifted away from black metal and aligned itself more with the Soundcloud rap aesthetic. I saw the jokes, heard the people taking a stand against the album, and I started to wonder, “Holy hell, was I duped the whole time? Does this guy actually suck?” Pair that public backlash with the “holy shit fr?” SEVENTEEN SONG tracklist, and to say I was apprehensive going into this album would be a drastic understatement.
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I understand why people thought Crying Orc (government name Dmytro Marchenko), the artist behind Këkht Aräkh, was losing the plot when he dropped the “Wanderer” single in 2023, but I’m also not going to grandstand and say that black metal artists should only listen to and be influenced by black metal. I get it, I’m also a white dude born in the ‘90s, I fucked with Yung Lean in 2013 too. The difference is, I wasn’t trying to turn my black metal songs into “Ginseng Strip 666.” Hearing “Still wandering in the night – Pale Swordsman, ØÜGH” as an adlib on “Wanderer” felt like a fucking psyop, and now, three years removed, it feels like memetic warfare.
When Morningstar isn’t aping Soundcloud rap aesthetics, the actual metal presented is passable and, at times, pretty good. The production is pillowy and dreamy, atmospherically feeling more like a foggy morning in the spring as opposed to the sunny afternoon vibes you’d expect from similarly lucid artists like Deafheaven or Møl, which is a good thing (blackgaze was a failed experiment, it’s time to move on). Instrumentally, Crying Orc hasn’t made many great strides. He hasn’t become a guitar virtuoso or gotten into metric modulation, but if you liked Pale Swordsman, you shouldn’t have any gripes with his performance. What should be noted is how good the bass guitar sounds here, most notably on the second track “Castle.” The low end is clear and pronounced, which is rare in black metal but feels like a steak dinner when you finally get it.
As with his previous releases, it’s apparent that Këkht Aräkh is forever indebted to the likes of Darkthrone and that he worships at Transilvanian Hunger’s altar, but does every song have to be so mid-paced? It isn’t until the latter half of the record where we start getting hints of speed or aggression. Tracks like “Three Winters Away,” “Vigil,” and “Land av Evig Natt II” demonstrate the strength and command Crying Orc holds when he cuts through the bullshit and plays black metal the way it’s meant to be played; cold and angry, with venom and malice coursing throughout in equal measure.
Unfortunately, with repetition and repeated listens, Morning Star’s errors and missteps become even more glaring. Earlier, I mentioned its titanic seventeen-song track list, and lemme tell you, you feel all seventeen of them. It has a total runtime of just over fifty minutes, but the problem lies in that so many of these songs function more as interludes rather than proper tracks. They’ll run for two or three minutes with sparse instrumentation, usually just a guitar plucking sleepily while Mr. Aräkh sings somberly overtop. When they aren’t immediately memory-holed due to their overabundance and lack of energy, they kill the momentum, to the point where an otherwise good song like “Angest” gets thrown in the bin because Crying Orc stops playing black metal abruptly to end the song on 30 seconds of bedroom guitars for no real reason other than because he could.
One of the main issues with Morning Star is that Marchenko allowed too many outside influences into the creative process. You’ll often see his music labelled as “black metal for TikTok kids” and that’s a fair comparison, considering it’s evident that he draws inspiration from the platform’s viral acts (he’s name dropped artists such as Lil Peep and BONES), and you can also hear the slightest influence from nu metal bands like Deftones (I wouldn’t be surprised if he covers “Sextape” or “House of Flies” eventually). That outside influence is most apparent on the collaborative track “Eternal Martyr” with Bladee. You know the one, you’ve seen the memes. Maybe there’s something to be said for the way Këkht Aräkh was so eager to work with outside influences from a scene so foreign to black metal. There’s an argument to be made for the preservation of “the ways of old” or whatever, about not diluting your craft with music for “normies,” but that argument can easily be brushed aside when you remember just how much techno and electronic music Fenriz and Varg were listening to in the 90s.
Full transparency, I like Bladee. Obviously, Mr. Aräkh does too. That still doesn’t excuse the promotional photo. I mean, come on, Mr. Blad-double-E, a Minnesota Twins hat? Wrong ALC team (GO TIGERS). Getting a Bladee cosign is huge for any underground artist, especially for one who is a genuine fan of the Swedish rapper, but one almost starts to question if the collaboration is in good faith, if it’s for honest musical integrity, or if it’s for bragging rights and a chance to climb some mythical clout ladder (I mean, could you imagine 1349 working with Birdman or Paul Wall in the 2000s?) Musically, “Eternal Martyr” is standard fare for Crying Orc, sad and pillowy black metal with softly sung passages that Bladee handles. I guess Marchenko didn’t want to sing on this one, because Bladee isn’t doing anything that Marchenko hasn’t done elsewhere. While there’s nothing abhorrently wrong with it, that damn promotional photo and Bladee’s lazy inclusion leave a bad taste in the mouth.
Maybe I’m not the target audience, I mean, I thought I was, I’ve liked everything else this dude has made before, but Morning Star doesn’t sit well. Maybe Morrissey was onto something when he asked, “Has this world changed or have I changed?” Has Këkht Aräkh changed or have I? Is this still a project I can enjoy or is it too bogged down by all of this outside bullshit? Are there too many cooks in the kitchen? Am I just not “with it” anymore? I don’t know dude, but I’m not into it.
–Caylen Darling
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Morning Star is available this Friday via Sacred Bones.
We’ve been loving Namasenda’s singles from debut album Limbo, including “Cola” and “White Crest.” Today the Swedish singer has a short, sweet one for us. OK, maybe sweet isn’t the right word. Conceptually, the 95-second “Bad Love” is pretty self-explanatory, and Namasenda gets straight to the point. Its mixture of trance, hyperpop, and delicate PinkPantheress-esque…
(Comrade Aleks brought us the following excellent interview of the two members of Urluk, an Italian band whose new album will be released next month by Pest Records.) We interviewed Italian Urluk two years ago or so, and back then they performed haunted and doomed black metal with an original authentic concept that was soaked […]
Skid Row bassist and songwriter Rachel Bolan has announced his first-ever solo album under the name Bolan. The debut record, Gargoyle Of The Garden State, is set for release on 12 June 2026. The first single, At War With Myself featuring Danko Jones, is out now.
Produced by multi‑Grammy winner Nick Raskulinecz (Foo Fighters, Skid Row, Rush, Evanescence, Alice In Chains), the album began as a simple conversation between friends.
What started casually quickly evolved into a record that would ultimately define Bolan’s voice as both a songwriter and storyteller.
“Gargoyle Of The Garden State is not a project, it is every bit of my soul,” Rachel Bolan said. “Like me, it knows when to be serious and also knows where the party is.”
Expanding beyond his role as a bassist, Bolan performs the majority of instruments, shaping the record from the ground up. Drawing on influences from Brit Pop and Glam to Punk Rock and New Wave, the album represents a lifetime in music.
The album features guest appearances from Corey Taylor, Danko Jones, Nuno Bettencourt, Damon Johnson, Steve Conte, and fellow Skid Row members. “It was incredible to work with so many of my talented friends,” Bolan says, “an experience I wish everyone could have at least once.”
Gargoyle of the Garden State is out on 12 June 2026 and will be available on CD, LP, and digital formats. Pre-orders are available from bolan.lnk.to/GargoyleoftheGardenStatePR.
Despite their short time as a band and even shorter discography, Void is one of the foundational bands in extreme music. Void formed in suburban Maryland in 1980 and quickly earned a reputation as one of the most uncompromising and confrontational bands in the underground. Although the band released all of their music on the D.C. label Dischord, their music was, in many ways, different from that of their peers.
Void’s volatile mixture of hardcore and metal gave birth to what would eventually be known as crossover. A strong case can be made that the best works by bands like Agnostic Front, Stormtroopers Of Death, Cro-Mags, and others exist because of Void. Even Pig Destroyer credits the band as an influence and covered “Who Are You?” on a hardcover collection included with Book Burner.
Live 1982 contains two watershed Void performances. The A-side documents Void’s April 1983 performance at the Wilson Center, just months before the release of the legendary Faith/Void split LP. The B-side captures a December 1982 show at the 9:30 Club, where Void played with Negative Approach. Tom Lyle of Government Issue professionally recorded both performances. The release features photography by D.C. hardcore documentarian Jim Saah and artwork by Dischord designer Jason Farrell.
Live 1982 was released this month on Outer Battery Records. Bassist Chris Stover talked to us about how it came about and what it’s like to talk about a band that lasted for roughly three years, four decades later.
You’ve had a full life and career outside of music, working in real estate and tech. Did you ever expect to be still talking about a band you were in for a few years during your late teens and early twenties?
Stover: I didn’t think anything of it. We just enjoyed it in high school. Other than Bubba (Dupree, guitarist)—who took it full force and wanted to be a full-time musician—we didn’t think about it beyond that. We were doing what our parents told us: going to college. Sean (Finnegan, drums, RIP) played in bands for a brief period in college, but only jammed.
What do you think it is about Void that still resonates 30 or 40 years later, especially for people discovering it today?
Stover: I wish I had the magic answer for that. I think it’s the elements of metal mixed in with the completely unhinged sound we had. That’s something people still gravitate to.
How did the live record come about?
Stover: Tom Lyle was the impetus for it all. Over the last 10 years, there’s always been talk about doing something with the old live recordings. Outer Battery originally released a live Faith record at CBGB’s, and soon after, Tom stepped in and said, “If you’re doing that, you have to do a Void live record.”
When you sat down and listened to those recordings, what did you think? Did they capture the band properly, flaws and all?
Stover: They did. Tom was doing the sound back then, so he had the original direct-board recordings and manipulated them as best he could to make them clearer. I’ve heard them over the years in passing. I made mental notes like: “Wow, I really wasn’t playing bass well that night,” or “Sean was off,” or “John(Weiffenbach)’s vocals are barely there.” But Tom did a really good job gleaning what was good.
I appreciate that you didn’t try to hide any of the flaws. There’s a recklessness to Void that people love.
Stover: Exactly. When we practiced—and we practiced a lot—we really focused on playing well. But once we hit the stage, all bets were off. The gloves came off, and it just happened the way it happened. Void wasn’t a perfect band when it came to grooves or timing, and this record definitely captures those live moments. As my friend Kenny Inouye (Marginal Man) says, there were two schools of thought about Void: you either loved us or hated us.
Dischord eventually released a lot of your archival stuff, but are we ever going to see a proper release of the Potion for Bad Dreams sessions, or will that stay on the internet forever?
Stover: Nope. I go along with Bubba on that one. For me, listening to that is like looking back at the paperwork of your divorce. It wasn’t a pleasant time because that was the end of the band. It’s just not a great sample of where the band was.
What was the songwriting process like back then?
Stover: Sean was the main songwriter. Because he was the drummer, he’d have a rhythm in mind, and he also wrote the best lyrics. He’d parlay that to Bubba to come up with a riff. Those two would work together to build the whole song, and then John and I were sort of the silly putty or glue that filled it all in.
The new live record initially said 1982, but one show actually took place in 1983, right? What do you remember about that night at the Wilson Center?
Stover: That was a misprint that Tom and the rest of us corrected. Honestly, all the Wilson Center shows kind of blend together. It wasn’t specifically about one particular show; it was about the experience of being there. It was incredibly community-driven. When you see old flyers with all those amazing bands playing together, it really was a community. No one was driven by ego. We just wanted to get out there and enjoy it. We tried to figure out how to tour the U.S. like other bands were starting to do, but we quickly realized we needed money to do it.
One of the real things lost in our lifetime is that sense of a community birthing a scene and lasting friendships. Crossover punk and metal really took hold around 1985, and Void definitely helped get the ball rolling.
Yeah, I agree. Our idea was always just to get out there and enjoy it. All the children get to reap the spoils. Bands after us were able to have bigger records and go on tour. It’s one of the cases where the progenitors didn’t really get to that level. Success is the wrong word because it was still shitty clubs (laughs).
