Gadget - Coerced (EP, 2026) Review

First of all, The Funeral March is one of the best grindcore albums of its time. Secondly, I hope Gadget doesn't make it a habit to put out a major release once per decade, as The Great Destroyer came out 10 years later, and now this new EP, ten years after that. There hadn't been complete silence all this time if you think about the split release with Retaliation in 2021, but I don't mind being patient if it's to witness evolution and artists refusing to rest on their laurels. A comeback after a not so linear timeline (departure of original vocalist, pandemic struggles) sees Gadget in their most audacious form, with a mini-album of eight tracks and a duration as long as Unsilent Death - a golden standard.

The band pre-released "Gnistan" for the EP's promotion, the shortest track and a true grindcore speed stalwart, but Coerced isn't merely a collection of such bursts of aggression. Opener "Nonsense" instantly explodes into blast beat fury, which is maintained at maximum capacity across the remarkable guitar lines of "No Sense of Self" and the massive middle-paced groove on "Who Doesn't Serve You". New vocalist Emilia Henriksson (who has previously screamed her lungs out in Radium Grrrls) does a remarkable job on all tracks, and along the presence of new guitarist Kristofer Jankarls (Livet Som Insats, Axis of Despair) brings a fresh ferocity to Gadget, still testing the levels of intensity the band can reach with this new lineup.

An older track, "Funerary Rites", finally found its appropriate release space, and slaps the face as much as the fast-paced "Flatline", which has a wonderful open chord introduction and a slightly noisy ending that connects perfectly with the most experimental piece on Coerced, the five-minute "False Pulse". Here, Gadget expand upon a fully noisy / dark ambient texture that gets more and more uncomfortable as it moves on and reaches the second longest track of the EP, "Violenty Silent". The doomy sludge inclinations of this piece would surely make Eyehategod giggle in happiness, and concludes a rather bombastic and interesting work by these grindcore legends.

If you've tripped with the bizarre album covers of Pyrrhon, know that the stunning artwork of Coerced was done by the same artist, Caroline Harrison, who apparently mixes repulsive imagery with unexpected beauty as if it's sugar with coffee. The EP is short enough to leave you wanting more, but it's also notably diverse for its kind and hints how Gadget's new configuration is a work in progress, and at a period of renewed, and even darker inspiration. Let's hope for the next full-length to not be a product of distant futures and distant galaxies.

Release: May 8th, 2026 | De:Nihil Records
Rating: 4 out of 5

Werwolf - Satanic Terror (2026) Review

Formed back in 2005 and only sporadically active until recent years, you would prove to be a real book worm if you had Werwolf (no relation to the Finnish pseudonym of similar spelling) from Freiburg, Germany in your listening archives. The thread of releases in smaller formats the project in the current decade should have suggested an impending buildup to a full-length album, yet I still never saw Satanic Terror coming. The record sounds exactly like something that has been rotting far away for far too long, and plants itself in the soil of the earlier era with the fearlessness of a band with more experience than it might seem.

Satanic Terror is burrowed in the basements of the oldest Scandinavian school, yet more reminiscent of 20th century bands like Celestial Bloodshed and Cornigr, while in pursuance of black metal sanctity as treated by, e.g. Watain or Chaos Invocation (with whom they share a member too, as far as I understand). The production is predictably cold and the tremolo is honored throughout, as Werwolf don’t feel the pressure to consistently boost speeds to norsecore, but instead lay out mid-paced sections often in the album. Of course, it has its accelerated feral moments, like e.g. in “Whore of Dead Heaven” (damn) or the opening of “Temple of No Light”, but the slower anguished parts (“Unholy Trinity”, “Infernal Devotion”) occupy more of the album’s space. 

Apart from the notable self-titled opener, one of its finer moments is when the band combines the frantic and hypnotic tension like in the track “...of Cursed Places and Desegrated Graves”, which takes its time to start and then is slowly adorned with thunderous, memorable guitar melodies. Here and there, Werwolf possibly (and intentionally) sounds just a little bit too familiar (“Shrine of Faith”) but I didn’t find myself disillusioned with it, especially by how disciplined and palpable of its intentions the whole of the record is. Its uniformity of buzzing guitars, harsh vocals and coarse sound gives Satanic Terror a nostalgic quality, but only in the sense of reasserting old doctrines at just about the ideal album duration of ~30 minutes.

You won't be sucker punched by this album if you have the idea of what it is about, but it's efficient enough to bash you to submission. Mostly aggressive and fairly immersive at its slower turns, Satanic Terror is as blunt as its title, and a statement that could go on a banner about the state of black metal, or what it should be. Werwolf proceed to engage using mostly the same tonal palette across all their tracks, but it wouldn't make sense to shuffle things up. Terror.

Release: April 24th, 2026 | Dominance of Darkness Records
Rating: 3.5 out of 5 

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).