Black Cilice - Votive Fire (2026) Review

At what point does organic consistency become its own form of artistic statement? Seven full-length albums in (not thinking of all the demos, splits and EPs in between) since 2009 clearly accentuate Black Cilice’s absolute indifference to expectations of progression, a project convicted to a certain vision from day one, and having stood its ground from that very moment. I discovered this Portuguese hermit somewhere around Banished From Time (2017) and Transfixion of Spirits (2019), and worked my way both backward and forward to get the full idea of what this is about, a noble practitioner of the dark arts as utilized by compatriots such as Vetala, Mons Veneris, and later Candelabrum.

With four songs, and none shorter than seven minutes, Votive Fire still carries the devotion of the project to obscurity, and presses further into its own essential nature. Despite the apparent strata of lo-fi haze and the intentionally smothering production, I found the album’s sound to be the least impenetrable to date, as it’s now even possible to decipher riff sections a bit more clearly even from the first listens. Black Cilice has achieved compositions with distinct borders, yet still bound to a seamless, standoffish flow that the band exercises for the last 15+ years now. Isolated and deeply esoteric, Votive Fire doesn’t casually deploy its imagery, yet it might be the “easiest” starting point for someone getting into this soundrealm. 

Under the thick chunks of raw black metal distortion lies genuine melodic presence, and the guitars manage to stay descriptive and evocative while generating texture. Melancholic, compelling riff work is a cornerstone of artists in this territory, and Black Cilice’s energy manipulation has repeatedly kept me hooked in the past, even more so now with its slightly more flagrant posture. Parallels to our own Μνήμα can be drawn, but Votive Fire never bellies up to that much outward hostility, instead it burns quietly by handling monotony in moderation and with a steady hand. The record opens with a load of echoing tremolo on its longest piece, “Released by Fire”, and the uniformity, for its own sake, never really breaks for the next 36 minutes.

Tracks “Vows Sworn for Centuries” and “Into the Inner Temple” advance with various levels of velocity, as the forlorn guitar lines towards the end of both these tracks approach the numinous and are among the album’s most memorable moments. These kinds of melodies bleed straight from raw black metal’s main arteries, and Black Cilice has tapped into them. Woeful howling vocals waver at the edge of perception and feel like transmitting from somewhere unreachable, while the drums also occupy their own space in the project, not embedded but not separated from the mix at the same time. On the middle part of the last track, “Deconstruction of All Realities”, the guitar leads are lifted briefly to the surface with a small gesture, and march firmly toward Votive Fire's noise-boosted outro.

At first blush, there’s no obvious development in the formula of the album, which looks like it doesn’t reach beyond established framework, as great as it is for those attuned to the style. From my standpoint, the slight change in production makes for a significant difference in outcome, as the project withholds way less than before while remaining as hot-blooded for dreadful black metal as before. By gaining this sharper contour, the inner mechanics of Black Cilice’s mystique are more evident, but it’s still grim as hell. Still for fans only, and plainly recommended. 

Release: May 1st, 2026 | Iron Bonehead Productions
Rating: 4 out of 5

Devoid of Thought - Devoid of Thought (2026) Review

Devoid of Thought hail from the Lombardy region in Italy, and spent the better part of the last decade honing their powerful self-defining debut record, Outer World Graves (2021). With that album, the band attempted - while not leaving the crater - to handle death metal’s most perplexed branches and reassemble them into something new, and as immune to passive listening as possible. I admit to having missed the initial shockwave at the date of release, but measured Devoid of Thought a bit later and was fully aware of the next step in the form of this self-titled offering, as it approached.

The album runs five tracks across about thirty six minutes, structured in a way that may appear baffling at first listen. Initial track “Panspermic Bio-Dome” is, in the best sense, an affront to introductory patience, as it scatters a load of dissonant riffing below fiery vocal layers, and on disharmonized movements without any appetite for pattern pursuit. It presents the record’s most daring moment before Devoid of Thought establish themselves with it, specifically the inconversable, deconstructed jam section in the middle of the composition, bringing instrumental psych bands to mind, and binding to a more classic prog / tech-death reading that ends as abruptly as it starts.

A more fluid, almost conversational writing style traverses through warped temporality, with tracks constantly juggling irregular tempos with evident ease and pleasure. Like the challenging first track, follow-up “Chronos” features a gnarled voice that now states: “what you call man, we call time”. I could be mistaken, but this might be a paraphrasing reference to ethnobotanist Terence McKenna who said something starkly similar, reflecting his philosophy that humans don’t simply live within time, but time is a fundamental element that humanity itself is composed of. 

With just a handful of words, it then becomes easier to decipher the band’s conceptual and aesthetic corpus, which is also successfully transmitted through the album’s atypical, significantly stranger musical substratum. In its brighter moments, “Chronos” is a kinetic shapeshifter of boiling avant-garde progressive death metal and one of the easier tracks to get into, as is the even more straight-forward “Putrescent Mireborn”, heartily reminding me of Blood Incantation in its delivery (not the only moment in the album that I made such a parallel). Bass lines are marvelously audible and the drumming is excellent, handled by new member C.I. (of Occultarum, and as of 2026 playing for Putridity too).

What reminds of a more demented Autopsy line at the slow-paced starting melodies of “Oblivionauts” soon develops into a roller coaster of contorted riffing that makes no concessions to conventional song structure. The dissolution of epic proportions that takes place in the 10-minute closer “Entheogenic Ritual” features the band at its fullest, squeezing the logical terminus of everything the record was building toward. Fine classic death metal, non-idiomatic expression, and a dreamlike ride into a cerebral atmosphere that batters the gates of psychedelic death metal. Or, whatever this is!

I feel like Devoid of Thought often attend to deliberate inaccessibility and will likely frustrate listeners seeking handholds, but will also reward most richly the suspension of that expectation. Often genuinely difficult, but more often genuinely interesting, the album’s viscerally satisfying approach slides all around checkpoints but still manages to impress. The band appears idealistic towards experimentation, actively pushes around to make more space within death metal, and in my opinion, has all the confidence and vision needed in its quiver. Just shy of an outright masterpiece.

Release: April 24th, 2026 | Unorthodox Emanations
Rating: 4.5 out of 5

Mylingar - Út (2026) Review

Following the malignant trilogy of dead roads, dead dreams, and dead souls released by anonymous Swedish (?) project Mylingar between 2016 - 2019,  we were left stunned and aghast but also almost forgot about them thereafter. Nearly seven years is a long time to wait, as the band’s return to action with their third full-length album, Út, and first chapter of another trilogy, begins something new without a single edge softened, picking up where it was buried in 2019 with Döda själar. The long break has only allowed the darkness to insistently seep into Mylingar’s domineering black / death metal anticosmos, crying out in phrases of ritual and dissonance from a wound once opened, and now re-torn. 

The new record consists of seven tracks, whose titles form a sentence in old Norse that translates to the grim following: “May my blood cultivate the soil from below” [1]. Út’s production provides a distinct sense of a cold enclosure, a chamber sealed and echoing riffs sometimes distinct, sometimes under impenetrable layers of buzz. Mylingar’s ever-present pressure concedes to some unsought blurriness, however there’s an appreciable level of compositional intermixture and rhythm fracturing that not only destabilizes the listener’s footing, it also adds to the album the intrigue and substance necessary for such works to float. Both sound and music are disturbing, a cohesive descent to places of unlight with disharmony woven into every formal decision the record makes.

A strange tension between motion and stasis is established under the overarching wall-to-wall carnage, where it’s not directly clear when the band slides from one track section to the next. Closest relatives to this kind of relentless, compressed savagery would be bands like Altarage or Abyssal, with moments distantly reminding me of Serpent Column / Impetuous Ritual at times, however Mylignar also use restraint as a weapon, unlike their tempestuous contemporaries. Opener “Megi”, alongside following tracks “blóð” and “mitt” are overtaken by this trance and keep pummeling to a point of meditative disconnect. Slower passages are dragged along for extended torment, and the first side is not even the most unsettling of the album.

Alongside the surplus of primitive force encountered on the vehement lines of “raekta”, lies the complete surrender of the band to its bestial self, as Út slowly introduces elements of harsh noise electronics in the beginning and end of “jarðveginn”, one of the most punishing pieces of the album. Inside the turbulence, one can also notice the verminous, Cruciamentum-esque death metal riffing on “af”, as well as the truly monstrous middle part. The closing "neðan", the longest track on Út, opens with what could be a seriously malformed, late ‘00s - early ‘10s era Krallice guitar notion, and then indulges in distorted electronics that completely liquefy the album into abstruse harsh noise. 

Mylingar always proceed with a playing style that defies segmentation, and the overall musicianship nails it: uncanny and foundational bass work, drumming that articulates the record’s processional rhythm, and the highlight of these absolutely agonizing vocals moaning against sizzling magma (most notably, for me, on “raekta” and the high-pitched screams of “jarðveginn”, but really, everywhere). By the time it ends, and due to the album’s otherworldly denouement, it feels like Út has taken the listener somewhere fairly far from the point of departure, despite an apparent homogeneity.  Considering the period in which the band released their previous trilogy, it’s only safe to assume there’s more from Mylingar in the works, and maybe closer than you think.

Release: April 17th, 2026 | Amor Fati Productions
Rating: 4 out of 5

    [1] AN NCS PREMIERE: MYLINGAR — “ÚT”. No Clean Singing. (2026).

Guyođ - Death Throes of a Drowning God (EP, 2026) Review

I came in contact with Guyođ from Austria quite abnormally a few years ago, around the time of their first split release with Lehm and before their debut album, Heart of Thy Abyss, was even on the horizon. The band hit the mark with that album of abyssal doom / death metal and left overall positive impressions to anyone who came across it, especially when convincingly communicating it live during their concerts. Latest effort, Death Throes of a Drowning God, extends the foundations of the debut and pushes its vision to darker, more introspective territories.

The EP consists of four main tracks, interspersed with short dark ambient / drone interludes, all titled “Signal” followed by specific numbers. While the structure may seem unconventional at first, for people who dwell within the discographies of bands like Teitanblood or Necros Christos, this is no mysterious domain. From the start, the record establishes a dense, claustrophobic sonic field nurtured by the drone waves of “Signal 00347”, and then the deathlike pressure exerted by the oppressive first full track “A Thousand Invisible Eyes”. 

Despite Guyođ’s dim lit setting and gritty sound, guitar melodies are discernible all along as riffs undulate between a variety of tempos from speedy considerably slow. Along them, the remarkable vocal performance often takes the lead and faithfully serves the needs the composition, be it growls, shrieks or hushed whispers. The band steps on the aggression in the following tracks, "Behind Walls of Ice" and "Vortex of Infinite Despair", which feature furious blast beats surfacing from the murk before tempos drop to depths, structurally providing distinct moments when the EP embraces its doom side, and when it moves in frenzy. 

For me, the last piece “Hestia Drowning” is to me the most complete compositional statement on Death Throes of a Drowning God and the most successful in suffocation. A church organ introduction (which can also be heard earlier, on “A Thousand Invisible Eyes”) and a series of inescapable guitar lines and agonizing vocals, continued by the last short distorted ambient outro, “Signal 79357”, finish the EP off in panegyric terms. A few efficient tracks connected with brief intrusions of oceanic static and drone to reset the atmosphere, Guyođ’s authentic presence on Death Throes of a Drowning God has enough to compel you. 

Release: January 23rd, 2026 | Grazil Records
Rating: 3.5 out of 5

Pig's Blood - Destroying the Spirit (2026) Review

With less alarm and greater eagerness we seize the third full-length album by Milwaukee-based war metal moniker Pig’s Blood, whose first two drops of venom I absorbed with foolish confidence. Seven years after the release of A Flock Slaughtered, and after a sensible transfer to the ghastly carriage of Dark Descent Records, the band’s imposed brutality presents itself with a refined sound, and a constant pressure of blackened death that never ceases to shock. Destroying the Spirit doesn’t shy away from the usual constant bashing and blasphemy, while also now harnessing an attenuated conception of buoyancy across its 33 minutes of duration that boosts the outcome above the genre's bar of mediocrity. 

The first and most notable aspect on the album is the sharpened production, which is less clouded than in previous works, and yet not at the expense of heaviness. A tightly mastered sound offers the instruments discernible space, it’s audible and binds everything into notable cohesion, finally exposing all the grisly tools of the band openly to the listener. Destroying the Spirit's core still remains what is expected from Pig's Blood: the band operates on all speeds as guitars, drums and vocals erupt and spill molten phrases that violently march with clear delineation in the liminal zone between old-school death and black metal. 

The tracks on Destroying the Spirit are immediate but deceptive, as the small rhythmic changes and recurring patterns indicate an exquisite compositional grasp on war metal. “Rabid Dogs” and “Satanic Hammer of Justice” lean the strongest into that direction and praising the corpses of Archgoat, while there’s an odor of Incantation everywhere, especially e.g. in the main riffs and transitory soloing of “Power to Stop It”, or the opener “Standing In Depravity”. Nothing but pure delight is to be experienced when listening to the bestial madness of tracks like “Tartarean Infection” and even more so “Ravenous Hellslaught”, which also has a Profanatica flavor in its logic of scale riffing that always delivers.

Same goes for the opening lines of one of the Destroying the Spirit’s standouts, “Aftermath”, which draws from all the aforementioned and also features well-implemented higher-pitched howls, unlike the orkish growling that takes place for the most part of the album. You’ll find the same vocal terror on the convulsive closing piece, “Strikeforce of Isolate Will”, where the band finishes things off with an epic blast. Across the record, strains of blackened thrash (for example, in the middle part of the title track) can also be picked up, and there’s a fixed feel of forward momentum akin to early Deicide, but through a considerably more blackened lens and militaristic cadence.

Ultimately, the tenets of the genre are not reinvented, but with Destroying the Spirit, the grip is certainly tightened. Pig's Blood remain ruthless, the desecration is controlled and happens in broad daylight. The album is offered for repeated listens, seeks to overwhelm with precision and brute force, resonating with the savage legacy of old assailants from Blasphemy to Order From Chaos. I found its clarity to be a big advantage in appreciating the new material and its impact, hinting how the band can manage just fine based on musical merit alone. The spirit has been destroyed.

Release: April 24th, 2026 | Dark Descent Records
Rating: 4 out of 5