★★★☆ On paper, there should be nothing remarkable about this album. It’s extreme noisecore, produced by Kurt Ballou, with no real standout performances throughout. But in a strange way, that chimaeralike quality is the album’s greatest strength; without the distraction of distinctions, the resulting impact is more pure and devastating. See the rest here
★☆☆☆ This pains me. I really wanted — almost needed — to love this album. The failure is not due to admittedly crushingly high expectations, but rather the band’s abandonment of virtually everything that is so adored in their landmark album “The Shape Of Punk To Come.” Most glaringly, the emotional resonance is a.w.o.l.; See the rest here
★★★☆ Waldo is in the finest form of his career, acting as a strong counterpoint to the musical meanderings of the rest of the band behind him. The metal here is solidly lo-fi, but also diverse in its tastes, careening from obvious Pig Destroyer influences to classic thrash to plodding moshfests. See the rest here
★★★☆ While perhaps not as bold a transition as the ones we heard going into the band’s last two albums, this is nevertheless a fully-realized and utterly different take on prog metal, more “Coal” than “Bilateral” but with hints of both. Einar Solberg’s vocals take on more of a prominent role here, but the rest of the band are also tireless in their performances. See the rest here
★★☆☆ I give this band props for keeping “On Lonely Towers” interesting, in an Opeth-meets-Alestorm kind of rollicking way. But my god, the clean vocals are so jarring and distracting. Unfortunately, they’re the clearest part of the mix. Also, the songs tend to feel overlong and belabored. See the rest here
★☆☆☆ There’s nothing technically bad about this album, but it feels like a big slab of so-what. None of it is memorable — not the guitars, nor the drums, nor the vocals, nor the songwriting. See the rest here
★★☆☆ This is like a more punk, more grind version of Entombed. It’s dirty as all get out, and some of the riffs approach neoclassical status. But there’s also a plodding that comes across as tiredness, and it plagues almost every song past the opening track. See the rest here
★★★☆ Not a lot of surprises here (but that’s not really what we want from an FNM album); there’s a little more room here for atmosphere and dynamics, but otherwise this feels like a proper spiritual successor to “Album Of The Year.” The songs range from exceptional (“Cone Of Shame”) to regrettable (“Motherfucker”), but on the whole, this is an entertaining album. See the rest here
★★★☆ A meaty, albeit nu-metalish and slickly overproduced, post-djent bouillabaisse (with definite nods to Periphery, Chimp Spanner, et al). But what it lacks in originality per se, this album more than makes up for with a doubled-down commitment to all the tropes that make this microgenre so great: feminine subject matter, pseudorandom switching between clean singing and incoherent screaming, and above all, spasmodic aggression. See the rest here
★☆☆☆ I kinda fell asleep there for a bit. I mean, I get that this is doomy as fuck, but the plodding is just so unwavering that it’s easy to feel your mind wander. See the rest here
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