25. Spectres - Presence

When the ancient forces of post-punk and jangle pop collide, you might imagine something like a cosmic car crash in a library where everything stays perfectly in place, but nothing ever feels quite right. That’s what Presence, the latest album from Vancouver’s Spectres, feels like. It’s as if the band has somehow deciphered the secret language of dreams, and then, instead of interpreting it, they decided to crash the code with a well-worn, fuzzed-out guitar and a jarring rhythmic pulse. The result? An album that sounds like it’s both trying to escape its own sound and settle into it at the same time.

Let’s start with the title. Presence—such a simple word. But here, it’s like an assertion, a demand. You’re not just listening to the album; you’re here, right in the middle of it, whether you want to be or not. The album’s presence hangs over you, occasionally suffocating, occasionally liberating. There’s an urgency in its harmonies, a restless energy that holds on like a dream you can’t quite shake off even after you wake up. It’s paradoxical: so much of it is about feeling lost, yet it’s undeniably compelling.

From the moment the track "The Old Regime" pulses to life, you’re thrust into a world where the familiar melodies of jangle pop get smeared into something murky and brittle. The synthesizer sound inevitably reminds you of New Order. There’s an uncanny feeling here, like looking at something beautiful through a fogged-up window—its charm is evident, but you can’t touch it. The guitars twist in and out of clarity, never fully settling, while the rhythm section chugs forward like an overzealous engine that doesn’t quite know where it’s going.

As we move through tracks like "AM Gold" and "Justice and the Cross", the band gets more playful with the contradictions. “Waiting” is haunted by a rhythmic tension that never quite resolves, and "Real World" feels like it’s about to break apart under the weight of its own beauty. Yet, this fragility becomes part of the charm. In the best possible way, Spectres here seem determined to make you feel their music more than you understand it. This is music for a dimly lit room, where everything’s a little off-kilter—somewhere between cool detachment and almost-genuine despair.

But there are moments where the album slips into something almost tender, if only for a fleeting second. The gentle hum of "One Day" wraps around the listener like a forgotten memory, slowly drawing you in. These moments of ephemeral beauty are scattered throughout the record, though often just out of reach. They tease you, daring you to settle into the warmth, only to yank it away just as you start to relax.

The production on Presence is meticulously crafted, yet never feels polished. It’s the kind of album that is just imperfect enough to remind you that it was made by humans with hands—hands that clearly know what they’re doing but aren’t afraid to let the imperfections show. There’s a palpable sense of space here, a push-and-pull between fullness and emptiness that makes you feel like you’re constantly walking a tightrope between order and entropy.

Even the vocals, delivered in a detached, almost monotone style, feel like part of the landscape rather than the focal point. This isn’t a band that wants you to focus on the lyrics—they’re a texture, another instrument in the mix. The vocals drip with a kind of cool, melancholy apathy that might remind you of the cold night air in an alley somewhere; distant, yet ever-present.

If there’s any one thread tying Presence together, it’s its relentless insistence on atmosphere. This isn’t music designed to make you dance, or even necessarily to get lost in. It’s music to get lost with. It envelops you, swallows you whole, and then leaves you with the strange feeling that you’ve been on some kind of journey that you’re not entirely sure you wanted to take.

In short: Presence isn’t about creating something accessible or comfortable. It’s about making you feel like you’ve stepped into a world where logic doesn’t quite apply. It’s an album that can be both unsettling and mesmerizing, exhilarating and exhausting, all at the same time. Spectres don’t hold your hand, but they don’t leave you entirely in the dark either. It’s a ride that’s as strange as it is captivating—and one you’ll probably want to take more than once.

24. Slomosa - Tundra Rock

A Glacial Groove Odyssey

Imagine if a group of burly Norse warriors, having just returned from an intense battle with the elements and their inner demons, decided to get together and craft an album that defied all conventions of the known universe. That’s Tundra Rock by Slomosa for you—a record that fuses molten riffage with the icy chill of the Norwegian wilderness, creating an experience that feels both ancient and futuristic, hypnotic yet heavy.

From the very first track, Tundra Rock grabs you by the skull and doesn’t let go. But it doesn’t just hit hard; it holds you in an almost trance-like state. It’s as if you’re being carried through a snowstorm on the back of a thunderous mammoth, the crunching guitars echoing the sound of ice breaking under the weight of an avalanche. The rhythm section is like the wind itself—slow, relentless, and massive—pushing you forward at its own pace, making you question whether you’ll ever make it to the end of this surreal journey.

Slomosa’s sound here is an enigmatic concoction of stoner rock, doom, and psych, but they’re not simply regurgitating the usual tropes of these genres. No, Slomosa is out to redefine the rules. The band plays with space and silence in ways that most heavy bands simply don’t dare. The riffs are vast and wide, but they also carry a deliberate sense of space, giving every note room to breathe as though it’s carrying the weight of the frozen world itself.

Vocally, the album feels like a spectral whisper on the icy wind. The voice here isn’t just a delivery of lyrics—it’s more like an incantation. It’s haunting but powerful, drawing you into a state of reverence for the vast tundra they’ve conjured. Slomosa’s vocals never feel rushed, nor do they seek to dominate; they harmonize with the waves of riffs, adding to the album's elemental essence.

And then there’s the production—raw yet refined, like a perfectly preserved ancient artifact found deep within an iceberg. The sound is thick and warm, but the atmosphere never feels too polished. There’s an organic, live-in-the-room feel to the music, as if you’re hearing Slomosa perform under a starless sky with nothing but their instruments and the cold wind howling in the distance.

But perhaps what’s most refreshing about Tundra Rock is its refusal to settle into any one groove for too long. One moment you’re riding a monolithic doom wave, and the next, the track shifts into a fuzzy, swirling psychedelic trance that could have you questioning the laws of physics. This is the band’s masterstroke: their ability to make the harsh and the hypnotic coexist in a way that never feels jarring. It’s a constant ebb and flow between the frozen expanse and the molten core of the earth.

When the final track closes and the last note dies out into the vast, snow-covered void, you’ll realize that Tundra Rock has achieved what few albums dare: it’s a full-bodied, immersive experience. It’s not just something you listen to—it’s something you survive, something that claws its way into your psyche long after the album has ended.

In the end, Tundra Rock is a journey—not just a collection of songs, but a passage through the frozen, mystical wilderness of the band’s creation. Slomosa may be a young band, but they’ve already tapped into something primal and timeless, and Tundra Rock is a testament to their vision of what stoner rock can become when it dares to venture into the unknown.

23. Amyl and the Sniffers - Cartoon Darkness

Oh. My. Gosh. Cartoon Darkness by Amyl and the Sniffers is an absolute ride from start to finish. This album hits harder than a late-night kebab after a few too many beers—and trust me, it’s just as messy, glorious, and unapologetically fun.

Right from the first track, you can feel the Aussie punk rockers are back to ruin your life in the best way possible. Amy Taylor’s vocals? Unhinged. She screams, snarls, and croons with a ferocity that leaves you feeling like you’ve just been dragged through the gutter and spit out in a pit of sweaty, chaotic joy. The band? They’re as ferocious as ever—riff-heavy, fast, and in-your-face, like a sugar-high toddler with a drum kit and a whole lot of attitude.

The whole album oozes fun, but it’s the kind of fun that’s equal parts rebellious and self-aware. Lyrically, they’re taking the piss out of themselves, society, and the world at large, while still making sure you’re moshing your little heart out. The songs hit with that perfect blend of punk sneer and real, raw emotion, as if they’re shouting into the void, but also inviting you to scream along. And yeah, you will scream.

"Cartoon Darkness" is a bit like the feeling you get when you're half-drunk, half-hyper, and ready to destroy your life... in the best way possible. It’s chaotic, it’s electric, and it’s unapologetically punk. If you’ve ever wanted an album to yell at the world with, or just throw yourself into a crowd and let go of everything, this is it.

Amyl and the Sniffers are the punk rock thrill ride you didn’t know you needed. This album feels like they took all the best parts of their rowdy, raucous selves and stuffed them into a hyperactive, spiky little package that’s impossible to ignore. If you don’t love it? Well, I guess that’s your problem. Cartoon Darkness is here to kick your ass. And I’m here for it.

22. Chat Pile - Cool World

"Cool World," the latest album from the intense and chaotic band Chat Pile, is a raw and visceral journey into the depths of modern despair. The album offers a hard-hitting, heavy blend of sludge metal, post-punk, and noise rock, with every track drenched in a sense of discomfort and urgency. Chat Pile's characteristic mix of guttural, anguished vocals and abrasive instrumentation is more pronounced than ever, creating an atmosphere of dread and unease that’s impossible to ignore.

From the opening track, "I am Dog Now," the band wastes no time diving into the dark, murky soundscapes they've come to define. The distorted guitars, pounding drums, and thick basslines intertwine in a way that feels claustrophobic, almost suffocating. Lyrically, the album presents a world of disillusionment and alienation—whether it's the criticism of consumer culture, personal strife, or social decay, each song feels like a snapshot of a broken society.

The standout track, "Shame," showcases the band’s ability to blend catchy, yet unsettling, melodies with emotionally charged lyrics. The song swings between moments of tension and release, keeping the listener on edge. Meanwhile, "Frownland" encapsulates the album's darker side, with its relentless pace and the distorted howls that seem to mirror the chaos described in the lyrics.

"Cool World" is unrelenting, but it's not without moments of nuance. The track "Camcorder" shows a slightly more subdued side of Chat Pile, featuring quieter, more melodic passages that build into explosive outbursts of noise. It’s a moment of respite before diving back into the madness, illustrating the band’s depth and ability to manipulate mood and intensity.

While the album is challenging, it's also deeply rewarding for those who appreciate music that isn't afraid to push boundaries. "Cool World" is not an easy listen, but its dissonance and discomfort are part of what makes it so captivating. The album’s production also adds to its disorienting vibe, with raw, often lo-fi elements that make every song feel immediate and personal.

Overall, "Cool World" is an album that leaves you with a lasting impression. Chat Pile has carved out their own niche in the world of heavy music, and this release solidifies their place as one of the most intriguing and uncompromising bands in recent memory. The album is an emotional rollercoaster of sonic chaos, one that may be difficult to stomach at times, but ultimately proves to be a fascinating, thought-provoking listen.

21. Blood Incantation - Absolute Elsewhere

Absolute Elsewhere is the latest mind-bending opus from Blood Incantation, the Boulder-based death metal quartet known for their cerebral, progressive take on the genre. Ever since their 2016 breakthrough Starspawn, the band has been pushing the boundaries of extreme music, melding technical proficiency with deep atmospheric exploration. With their new album, Absolute Elsewhere, Blood Incantation seems to have taken their sound to even more uncharted realms—an evolution that will be both thrilling and challenging for listeners.

The album is structured like an enigmatic journey through the unknown, and the band’s approach to songwriting has only become more complex. Absolute Elsewhere is a full-bodied experience, an abstract narrative that merges themes of space, the occult, and consciousness. The title itself suggests a place that transcends the conventional, and musically, Blood Incantation delivers an album that feels like stepping into a strange, vast expanse.

From the very first track, it’s evident that the band has refined their atmospheric textures. The opening is a slow-building soundscape of ominous drones and distant echoes that gradually give way to dense, riff-heavy passages and a percussion section that feels like it's bending time itself. It’s less about speed and brutality, and more about creating a disorienting environment that plays with the listener’s sense of space and sound.

While Blood Incantation has always toyed with progressive elements, Absolute Elsewhere leans into them more than ever before. The songs here are less linear, favoring fluid transitions, complex structures, and multi-layered compositions that demand deep concentration. The album features intricate guitar work, with both harmonies and dissonances weaving in and out of each other in a way that feels less like conventional death metal and more like an auditory version of abstract art.

The tracks move through several different phases, starting with a spacey, atmospheric intro, and gradually evolving into a brutal, technical whirlwind before collapsing into a tranquil ambient passage. It’s an audacious choice that might alienate listeners used to more traditional death metal formats, but it's this sense of musical risk that makes the band so compelling.

The drumming on Absolute Elsewhere is particularly noteworthy. The band’s percussion section, led by Isaac Faulk, elevates the album into a realm where rhythm is as much about texture and atmosphere as it is about technique. The intricate polyrhythms and sudden changes in tempo often evoke a sense of disorientation, enhancing the feeling of being transported to an alternate dimension. The way Faulk transitions from blast beats to more subtle, almost jazz-like moments of percussion shows an astonishing level of control and invention.

Unlike the more visceral, grind-heavy tracks on their earlier albums, Absolute Elsewhere also embraces silence and space as crucial elements. The two tracks “The Stargate” and “The Message” find moments of almost complete stillness, using negative space to build tension before erupting into chaotic bursts of dissonance. It’s clear that Blood Incantation is no longer interested in merely pummeling the listener; they want to take them on an intellectual and emotional voyage, where peaks and valleys exist not just in intensity, but in mood, tone, and atmosphere.

One aspect of Absolute Elsewhere that might be less immediately striking is the vocal performance. Unlike many death metal bands that rely on guttural growls and screams as a main sonic force, Blood Incantation’s vocals are used sparingly here, blending into the overall soundscape rather than dominating it. The band’s vocalist, Paul Riedl, adopts a lower, more controlled style—his growls and shrieks are often buried within the mix, contributing more to the album’s dense atmosphere than standing out as distinct parts. This could be divisive for fans of more traditional death metal vocals, but it suits the more experimental and ambient feel of the album.

Absolute Elsewhere is not a record designed for casual listening. It’s dense, unpredictable, and requires the listener’s full attention to appreciate its full scope. In many ways, it’s an album that transcends the confines of death metal, leaning heavily into progressive rock, ambient, and even post-rock influences. For those who approach it with patience and an open mind, Absolute Elsewhere will reveal itself as a rewarding, multifaceted experience.

Blood Incantation has once again demonstrated their position as one of the most innovative bands in extreme music today. Absolute Elsewhere may not immediately grab you with the raw intensity of their previous works, but its intricacy and daring experimentation are what make it one of the most exciting and ambitious death metal albums of the year. Whether or not it will become a classic remains to be seen, but it’s undeniable that Blood Incantation has created something that challenges the very boundaries of the genre.

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