It's the sort of music that gives you lacerations. Dawn of Azazel are an Auckland three-piece - fronted by bass playing screamer, Rigel Walshe - who are possibly the most severe, yet classy, act to come out of New Zealand.
They were previously a four-piece. Now, with three of them,
they are more armour-piercing and lethal than ever. Their last album, The Law of the Strong, set a new standard in extreme music in New Zealand, but it was too cacophonous for its own good. Heavy, but anti-social stuff.
Sedition is a more accommodating beast because all its bits and pieces - be it slashing guitar riffs, Walshe's dominating yowl, or the epileptic pummelling of bass and drums - can be heard exquisitely, partly thanks to the recording and mixing of David Holmes (Jakob, Gramsci).
When the hammer drops on Descent Into Eminence, or The Road To Babalon slaps you with time signatures from hell that whip and whirl like flames, that is when you feel the power of Dawn of Azazel.
At just under 30 minutes - over nine songs - it is short, but ample.
Growing up, no doubt Walshe and his cohorts would have listened to a bit of Sepultura. The Brazilian band's former leader, Max Cavalera, has been making music as Soulfly since leaving Sepultura in 1996. Dark Ages is the album fans have been waiting for, because it is the best since their first in 1998.
The "world" music component is a major part of Soulfly, yet it proved a bad distraction on previous albums, making them hippy rather than heavy. The tribal Brazilian drums are punishingly evident on Dark Ages, but there's a revitalised and rampant metal spirit, on tracks like Arise Again, Babylon and I And I. The only downer is the Prodigy rip-off Riotstarter, which is quite unnecessary, thanks very much Max.
Australian trio Contrive are for fans of the slick and diligent metal of Trivium who have a hankering for something a little more mongrel. But the distinction between soft and heavy is too managed on their debut album. That change in dynamic needs to happen with the snap of a neck. Contrive do it well on the grubby Divided, but on the expansive A Vigil For the Lost they scream and flail their heads with bogan-like abandon, then go all soft when singer Paul Haug takes on a flat and nasally voice, or even worse, a gentle high note, and it sounds ... contrived. Opeth, on the other hand, do things perfectly. On their new album, Ghost Reveries, they make long and luxurious metal that takes you on a trip, complete with high flown acoustic moments, medieval madness, choir boy vocals, erotic guitar squeals, and deathly growls, grooves and riffs. And the transition between all these styles is seamless. Metal is a beautiful thing, and Opeth, who formed 15 years ago in Stockholm, are proof of it.
You will get sideways glances for loving this (the quieter moments are seriously soft and devoid of metal), but without warning, say sometime during the 10-minute long Ghost of Perdition, or the monumental roar of The Grand Conjuration, they scare you in a demented fashion.
After eight albums Opeth are still pushing things forwards - the sign of a great band.
From a band to one man - by the name of James Fogarty - who operates as Ewigkeit. He's worked with the KLF, the band who burned $1 million for fun and recorded classic club anthems such as Last Train To Trans Central - and you can tell.
While his roots are in black metal, on his fifth album he dabbles in sample-based metal that's reminiscent of Front Line Assembly or Skinny Puppy. Add a bit of Killing Joke, and a camp club vibe with a few sirens and it comes on like the Erasure of metal, which, on tracks such as It's Not Reality and The Thought Police, is not a bad thing.
On a more menacing tangent, Arch Enemy's Doomsday Machine is produced by Andy Sneap, the man behind Nevermore's excellent This Godless Endeavour from this year. While not quite as good as that album, and despite Johan Liiva having a voice that should come with a health warning, the songs on Doomsday have a catchiness that make them surprisingly accessible.
My Apocalypse has a sucking vacuum sound, like Darth Vader using his inhaler, that launches into a raging torrent of riffs, while Nemesis has the kind of power breakdowns, instrumental mayhem and anthemic singing that makes a song pretty damn thrilling. And then all of a sudden they mellow with lurching bass and romantic guitar. But there's always that tendency of being on the verge of destruction, and that's an important quality.
DAWN OF AZAZEL: SEDITION
(Ibex Moon Records)
Third album from Auckland black death metal exponents
Herald rating: * * * *
SOULFLY: DARK AGES
(Roadrunner)
Fifth album from band fronted by Brazilian pioneer Max Cavalera
Herald rating: * * * *
CONTRIVE: THE MEANING UNSEEN
(Shock)
Melbourne trio's debut is a little too contrived
Herald rating: * *
OPETH: GHOST REVERIES
(Roadrunner)
Swedish quartet's dramatic death metal with progressive and acoustic shadings
Herald rating: * * * * *
EWIGKEIT: CONSPIRITUS
(Earache)
Fifth album from one-man band where metal meets club camp
Herald rating: * * * *
ARCH ENEMY: DOOMSDAY MACHINE
(Century Media)
Catchy, at times epic, death metal
Herald rating: * * * *
Masters of black arts
Dawn of Azazel, where three is more lethal than four.
It's the sort of music that gives you lacerations. Dawn of Azazel are an Auckland three-piece - fronted by bass playing screamer, Rigel Walshe - who are possibly the most severe, yet classy, act to come out of New Zealand.
They were previously a four-piece. Now, with three of them,
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