Genres: Hard Rock, Southern Rock, Psychedelic Rock

Label: Rise Above

Location: Austin, TX, USA

A double dog dare: it's the kind of challenge you accept without a second thought, whether you’re about to climb that rock face, chug that bottle of hot sauce, or—naturally—crank up the Double Dog Dare album by White Dog. A Texas-based Southern Hard Rock band that sounds like they’ve never met a boundary they couldn’t tear down with a fistful of whiskey-soaked riffs, this album is the sonic equivalent of that dare—reckless, unapologetic, and with a swagger that dares you to keep up.

White Dog is a force to reckon with in a scene that's increasingly consumed with retro-nostalgia and formulaic guitar solos. Double Dog Dare ignores the norms with a grin that could be the cover art of an 70s rock magazine, dressed in double denim, dripping with attitude. The album kicks off with “Holy Smokes,” a track that feels like you’ve been thrust into a hot summer night under a blood-red Texas moon, driving a Dodge Charger on the asphalt. If you’re not already hooked by the time the chorus hits, you’re either asleep or not alive enough to know better.

What sets Double Dog Dare apart from its peers, though, isn’t just the Southern riffs, but the way White Dog blends their influences. This isn’t your average "Southern Rock meets Metal" scenario. Instead, you get flavors of swampy blues riffs that feel like they were brewed in an old distillery, the kind of earthen grittiness that reminds you of a dusty backroad, and vocals that rasp with the grit of a man who’s smoked a thousand cigarettes while riding a Harley through a thunderstorm.

“Double Dog Dare” is a song where the guitar seems to explode into jagged shards of sound, matched only by the coolness of lead singer, whose voice could command a thunderstorm to kneel. Meanwhile, “F.D.I.C.” brings in a chorus so anthemic, you can practically hear the crowd screaming along while doing their best to stay on their feet in a bar that’s had one too many rounds of cheap beer.

But what really defines this album is the groove. White Dog doesn't simply play loud—they find that sweet spot where sludgy, low-end rhythms mix with hooks that could stick to your brain like a splash of motor oil on a white shirt. “Frozen Shadows” has this mesmerizing, almost hypnotic pulse that lingers long after the track ends, making it a standout in an album full of hard hitters.

Of course, this isn’t an album for everyone. If you're looking for something smooth, melodic, and easy to digest, this isn’t your jam. Double Dog Dare is a rollicking, muddy, and unapologetically raw ride that demands you throw your hands in the air and embrace its irresistible authenticity .

If you’ve got the guts, this album will dare you to keep pace, forcing you to crank the volume a little higher with each track, daring you to step outside the lines and rock out like you mean it. Like any great dare, it might just be the best bad decision you make all week.

Genres: Hard Rock, Progressive Rock, Heavy Metal

Label: Cruz del Sur

Location: Hobart, Australia

There are albums that make you feel like you've stumbled upon a hidden treasure chest, and then there are albums like Glimpse Of The Dawn by Tarot, which feels like an invitation to an enigmatic realm where metal, progressive rock, and the unexpected all converge into a cosmic swirl of auditory delight. Hailing from Australia, this band, with their striking blend of sharp riffage, smooth melodies, and ever-shifting time signatures, are here to present an album that sounds like it was written in a distant future where the sonic boundaries of rock have dissolved into something far more adventurous.

From the very first track, "Glimpse Of The Dawn," you know you're in for something far beyond typical. The opening riff grabs you by the ears and pulls you into a journey that traverses not just genres, but dimensions. It’s as if Tarot has taken a sonic telescope, peered into the unknown, and returned with something not entirely familiar, but still wildly captivating. The instrumental work is nothing short of extraordinary—layered, intricate, and full of atmosphere. You can hear the meticulous care that went into every note, every bend of the guitar, and every thunderous hit of the drum.

The lyrics throughout Glimpse Of The Dawn are equally beguiling, as Tarot weaves tales that are mysterious yet relatable, speaking to the human experience through cryptic metaphors and vivid imagery. Lead vocalist Will Fried's voice is a perfect vehicle for these narratives, switching effortlessly between powerful soaring highs and softer, more intimate lows. His delivery, full of emotion and intensity, serves as the ideal anchor for the album’s shifting landscapes.

"Dreamer In The Dark" might be the crown jewel of the album—a track that blends hard rock, symphonic rock, and a touch of spacey, prog-inspired exploration. It’s bold, ambitious, and a perfect showcase of Tarot's ability to bend genres to their will. The song builds and builds until it becomes an uncontainable surge of sound, finally unleashing a colossal breakdown that’s heavy enough to make your speakers question their existence.

But what’s truly remarkable about Glimpse Of The Dawn is how Tarot weaves in moments of subtle beauty amidst the chaos. Tracks like "Leshy's Warning" offer respite from the album’s more intense sections, with softer guitar work and ethereal vocals that feel like a gentle exhale before diving headfirst into the next sonic storm. It's these moments of delicate contrast that give the album a sense of depth and dynamism.

Of course, no great album would be complete without its closing track, and Glimpse Of The Dawn ends on a note that is nothing short of transcendental. "Heavy Weighs The Crown," a multi-layered opus that clocks in at over seven minutes, explores every inch of Tarot's sonic palette—from tranquil acoustic passages to blistering, fiery guitar solos. It’s a fitting farewell that makes you wish there were more to experience, but also leaves you with a sense of closure, as if you’ve just returned from a mind-expanding adventure.

In summary, Glimpse Of The Dawn is an album that begs to be experienced, not just listened to. Tarot has crafted an audacious, thrilling ride that moves fluidly between heavy and soft, familiar and experimental, all while maintaining a powerful sense of identity. With this album, Tarot have firmly planted their flag in the world of progressive hard rock—an album that resonates long after the final note fades. For those willing to take the plunge into the unknown, Glimpse Of The Dawn offers a rewarding, exhilarating sonic experience.

Genres: Heavy Metal, Traditional Doom Metal

Label: High Roller

Location: Bilbao, Spain

Imagine, if you will, an exit not from this world, but from the very notion of time itself. A garden, yes, but not of flowers. A garden where iron roots twist into the soil of forgotten dreams, and the air is thick with the melancholic perfume of ages that never quite were. "The Exit Garden" by The Wizards is a musical paradox—a doom-laden ride where the whispers of the past collide with the dissonant future.

Opening with "The Exit Garden," the album sets its stall early—this is not the usual churning, soul-crushing wall of sound you might expect from doom metal. No. The Wizards are playing a different game, one where every note feels like a deliberate choice. The track builds at a deliberate pace, like a plant slowly reaching toward the sun, each guitar riff a creeping vine. But just as you think the song might grow stagnant, it splits open into a riotous tempest of distorted shrieks and reverberating bass.

The album’s approach feels like an alchemist at work: slow, methodical, but ever so purposeful. "Full Moon in Scorpio" captures this essence with precision. The track’s vocals are like a voice calling from some deep, cryptic void, and the guitar work slithers like a serpent coiled just beneath the surface of your thoughts. It’s unsettling, but also magnetic, as if you’re being pulled into the garden despite knowing you may never leave.

What sets "The Exit Garden" apart is its embrace of the unconventional. The Wizards refuse to be shackled by doom metal’s typical misery. There are moments of strange beauty amid the gloom. On tracks like "Oniros," they introduce an unexpected touch of psychedelia, as if the leaves of the garden are imbued with some sort of otherworldly glow. The fuzz-laden guitar solos rise like mirages, bending light and sound, questioning what’s real and what’s illusion. It's almost as if the band is asking, "Is this the end, or just the beginning?"

There are stretches where the record dips into moments of eerie silence, a quick intake of breath before the next wave crashes down on you. "Holy Mountain Mind" is a prime example of this. It’s not the usual heavy-handed riffage; it’s the subtle menace that creeps behind the scenes, haunting the spaces between the notes. The bass lines groan, barely audible, like the slow turning of some ancient clock in a dusty room.

The album’s final track, "Dawn of Another Life," feels like both a resolution and an unraveling. The doomy guitars fade into an ambient haze, and as the track ends, you’re left wondering whether you’ve just witnessed an escape or a complete surrender to the void. There is no way back, only forward into the uncertain labyrinth of sound that The Wizards have crafted.

If there's a downside, it’s that the album is not for the casual listener. "The Exit Garden" requires patience, an understanding that doom metal can evolve beyond simple riffs and heavy doom. The Wizards don’t just want to crush your skull with despair—they want to make you think, to feel, to drift in and out of dimensions that you didn’t know existed.

So, is "The Exit Garden" the end of something, or the opening of a new sonic path? It's hard to say. But one thing is certain: The Wizards have cultivated a dark, poetic masterpiece that challenges what doom can be in the 21st century. This isn’t just an album; it’s an invitation into a garden where the exits are as elusive as the meaning of the music itself.

Be careful as you enter. Not everyone makes it out unscathed.

Genres: Electro-Industrial, Industrial Metal, Darksynth, Darkwave

Label: Loma Vista

Location: Los Angeles, USA

Imagine the world, not in turmoil, but in fever, as if our collective discontent has seeped into every synapse, turning our very thoughts into electrical storms. That’s the feeling you get from Rat Wars, the latest album by LA's industrial-noise-noir pioneers, HEALTH. It's not just music, it’s a transmission from a reality where entropy is a constant, and yet, there’s a strange beauty in the chaos.

"Demigods" is the perfect opener to this madness. It’s a sonic rebellion, a song that should feel apocalyptic but instead pulses with defiance. The production is unsettling, full of dissonant clangs and distorted voices. It sounds like a choir of gods in the midst of an existential crisis, or maybe the soundtrack to a post-apocalyptic church service. The track builds with a haunting urgency, the tension slowly unraveling as you’re pulled deeper into a landscape of frayed nerves and unrelenting beats. The track seems like a battle cry for those who’ve accepted the world has ended, and now it’s just a matter of how you burn.

And then there’s "Children of Sorrow"—a track that feels like it’s constantly on the verge of implosion but never quite does. Here, the band shifts gears into a more ethereal, yet equally disturbing territory. It’s dark, but there’s a sliver of hope running through the haze. The song writhes in discomfort, but in a way that mirrors our own sense of longing for release, even if that release might come in the form of something catastrophic. There’s a sense of resignation, yet the track doesn’t give up—it's a testimony of survival, of living in a broken world without the luxury of giving in. It’s industrial-pop at its most tortured, with a lingering, eerie hum that sticks with you.

Across the whole album, Rat Wars never lets up on its intense, confrontational energy. The songs are a barrage of dissonant textures, sharp industrial beats, and manipulated vocals that seem as if they’ve been dragged through a digital meat grinder. But this is where HEALTH has always excelled—at finding beauty in the brutal. They have a way of making even the most jarring sounds feel like a dance, a chaotic, cathartic release.

There's something oddly cathartic about the fact that the whole record feels like it was made for a world that's not entirely sure it deserves saving. The title Rat Wars sums it up perfectly—it’s a war between survival and destruction, a fight for meaning in a world that has none, but one in which meaning is still worth searching for.

In short, Rat Wars is as much about self-destruction as it is about transcendence. A soundtrack for those who live on the edges, teetering between apathy and the desperate search for redemption. It’s loud, it’s confrontational, and it’s downright uncomfortable—but that’s exactly what makes it so fascinating. If you’re brave enough to enter the chaos, you might just find something profoundly human waiting for you at the center.

Genres: Proto-Doom, Heavy Psych

Label: RidingEasy Records

Location: Baltimore, MD, USA

Imagine an album that doesn’t just play for you, but at you—a swirling, kaleidoscopic mess of sound that both unravels and rebuilds you. That’s what Magick Portion feels like, the debut album from Baltimore’s own Magick Potion. It’s not the sort of album you listen to passively. It confronts you. It dares you to dive into its psychedelic abyss, to let the lines between dream and nightmare blur and distort in ways that only an album crafted under the influence of potent sonic sorcery could.

Opening with a crackle of static and distortion, Magick Portion pulls you into its ritualistic embrace with the kind of dark energy that never lets go. But just when you think you’ve got the album’s vibe pegged, Magick Portion yanks the rug out from under you with “Fever Dream”. This track is a feverish, unsettling trip—a jolt of dissonance and dreamlike confusion. It's the kind of song that feels less like it was written and more like it was channelled from some fevered, delirious netherworld. The drums crash, the guitars twist into jagged shapes. They drift in and out of focus, like a half-remembered nightmare. Is it about the disorientation of the subconscious—the feeling of waking up from a dream that doesn’t quite end, that lingers and bleeds into your waking life? It’s uncomfortable, but that’s the point. It's as though the band is saying, "You thought you were in control, but we’re driving this thing now.”

The track, “Never Change”, feels like a warning. The title sounds like a commandment, but it’s hard to tell whether it's a plea, a boast, or a curse. The song’s rhythm is an erratic pulse, like the heartbeat of something ancient and untamed. The bass throbs, low and menacing, while the guitars twirl and shudder in a haze of reverb. The vocals? Oh, they’re somewhere between a chant and a cry, an almost hypnotic incantation, hinting at both resignation and defiance. The whole thing is drenched in a sense of inevitability, as if Magick Potion is telling us, “We’re not changing, and neither should you. Embrace the madness.”

Throughout the album, there’s a tension between chaos and control, between the cathartic release of losing yourself in a song and the dread of realizing you’ve already lost yourself. There are no easy answers, no moments of pure clarity. And yet, that’s what makes Magick Portion so thrilling. It’s a record that demands attention, one that rewards the patient listener with glimpses of strange beauty, of dark visions that somehow feel right in their wrongness.

There are moments of melodic respite, but they never last. Every time you think you’ve found a hook or a chorus to cling to, it slips away, morphing into something else entirely. Whether it’s the hypnotic swing of “Chateau Nights” or the jarring, ecstatic eruption of “Wild Perfumes,” Magick Portion keeps you on your toes.

In the end, Magick Portion isn’t just an album—it’s an experience. One that plays with your perceptions, distorts your understanding of time and sound, and leaves you questioning whether you’re better off stepping back into reality or staying in the sonic wilderness where it feels just a little more alive. It's not easy listening, but it's essential listening, if you're willing to go along for the ride.

If you’ve been looking for something that shatters your expectations and reconstructs them in unexpected ways, something that pulls you into the belly of the beast and dares you to survive, then Magick Potion has your number. Just don’t say you weren’t warned. Never Change.