Italian darkness, German Satanic speed and Scottish filth: March’s highlights from the underground

Spring has sprung, which means daffodils and blossoms and other pretty signs of life. That hasn’t stopped the underground throwing up a load of death, doom and black metal to make Easter that little bit more grim.

Kicking off with some homegrown brutality, we’ve got Infectious Pathological Waste, the third album from Bristol’s Cryptworm. By this point, the trio have become experts in disgusting death metal, and songs like the exceptionally-named Gallons Of Molten Hominal Goo and Gastrointestinal Seepage (a title you can almost taste) are first-rate exercises in beefy riffs, grinding blasts and gurgled vocals so low they occasionally sound like dry heaves. In all this, they’ve got a handle of being just catchy enough, rather than an onslaught of offal. Maimed And Gutted, for one, is a banger with bits you can punch the air to, while Drowning In Purulent Excrementia’s satisfyingly chunky bits will stick in your head, before it explodes in a load of dirty blasting. Horribly good.

Keeping it British, Scottish party slammers Party Cannon show they haven’t got any more sensible on their Subjected To A Partying EP. “Alright dickheads, listen up,” announces a sample of Shane Gillis in Tires at the start of Parisian Bedbug. “I know this sucks. We’re all dumbasses, but if we just fucking lock in and plough through this, we can get it over with, alright?” Tone set, they launch into their usual slammy death, with a breakdown that sounds like dogs barking. Look, you’re not expecting grace and high-mindedness from this lot, so the dunderheaded High Tariff Behaviour and raging violence of Improper Use Of A Speculum will come as no surprise. The gabber remix of Thirst Trap (featuring a Krusty The Clown sample) and Frontierer’s Low IQ Behaviour will, though. Oddly, they’re both slightly more sensible than the rest of it. Never change, Party Cannon.

A year ago this month, Midryasi’s Kult impressed us with their killer Mountain Devil debut EP, and now the Italian fivesome return with a whole album of their intoxicating mix of old-school doom metal and touches of post-punk. On the aptly-named Italian Dark Sound, they continue where they left off, and indeed where countrymen like Death SS left off, creating a seductively occult vibe on Hypnopriest and the organ-driven M.I.M. Mayhem. Meanwhile, Into The Cellar, Taste For Damnation and the title-track all channel the big riffs and sleaze of Pentagram, with the censer-smelling, hot-blooded energy of their homeland classics. Aptly-named indeed, although they should also include ‘Awesome’ at the start.

One of the best weapons in black metal’s arsenal is when bands remember the ‘metal’ part and turn up the influence of Maiden, King Diamond and Priest. Austria’s Transilvania understand this to excellent effect on Magia Posthuma, where chilling, minor-key black metal is powered by wild-eyed metal mania. Fans of Watain, Nifelheim and early Tribulation will dig the scything lead melodies on the thrashy Thrall, the headbanging mid-section of Set The Tombs On Fire, or the four-four punches of the superbly-titled Tuberculosis reigns. There’s even a solo on Poenari By Night that’s pure Ride The Lightning-era Kirk Hammett. In all this, they still sound absolutely possessed. Definitely one for metal maniacs to sink their fangs into.

Nuctemeron walk a similar path on Demonic Sceptre, only going even further into heavy metal mania. Apparently in thrall to both Satan and speed metal as done by Canadian legends Exciter and fellow Germans Accept, their leather-and-studs-clad attack is a diabolic party, full of wickedly catchy NWOBHM leads. Singer Lunatic Aggressor’s vocals make Accept man Udo sound like Dio, as he rips his way through The Bat and After Violent Storm, and surely the only man who can make the yelled, titular chorus of Fuck Off!!!! (In The Name Of Evil) sound this correct. It all actually makes their obvious heroes Venom – whose classic Angel Dust they cover here – sound low-powered by comparison. Pure mania from start to finish.

For those in need of some Morbid Angel-ish riffs and otherworldly weirdness, here’s Egregore with It Echoes In The Wild. Featuring members of Canadian outfit Mitochondrion, they describe this second album as “Dark invocations and secret tongues [that] draw forth echoes from forest and fen, cave and cliff, tempting the temporally tethered to receive the curse, all the while driven by a primal, unknowable sardonic menace.” Listening to the dissonant, proggy guitar work and echoey vocals, it’s not far off. But whether you take it on such deep terms, or you’re simply in the mood for some seriously Azagthoth-ian riffs, the eerie Voice On The West Wind, Cast Adrift and the eccentric Nightmare Cartographer will thrill either way.

Is it possible to go wrong with a song called Reeks Of Moldy Guts? In theory, yes. But in practice, as Foetorem display on the opening throw of their Forms Of Evergrowing Rot debut, we so far have a 100 per cent success rate. The Danish doom/death quartet deal in a particularly morbid strand of heaviness, not a million miles from Krypts, Asphyx or, in their slower moments, such as the aforementioned …Moldy Guts, disembowelment. With a name that means ‘stench of decay’, they have a real thing for the gross end of what a body can do: Oozing With Pustulent Fluids, Grotesque Decomposition, Peeled Face Mask, that sort of thing. But there’s far more to them than just gross brutality. Rebirth In Morbid Disgust is a slower journey into the contemplative vastness of the void, while Mors Viatrius – The Death Traveller skips from mournful intro to filthy, obtuse chug. Often, huge, doomy guitars are left to hang like corpses from trees in between the faster madness, creating a truly morbid atmosphere that will be irresistible to experts on this particular type of grave worship.

Finally, five years since Pale Swordsman caused a stir in the underground, there’s great anticipation around the return of Ukrainian oddity Këkht Aräkh with his third full-length, Morning Star. Sole member Crying Orc has continued his explorations of lo-fi black metal to an almost romantic degree, revelling in the suffocating isolation of Castle or Mörker över mörker, all cotton-wool drums, just-in-tune guitar and icy minor chords with their unrefined edges still intact. It often evokes the rawness of obvious touchstones like Mutiilation or Bethlehem, but the Orc-y one has spread his wings somewhat this time, even having a touch of Radiohead on Wänderer, with clean vocals that sound like they’re being sung into a dictaphone. Elsewhere, there’s folk strums, and an appearance from Swedish rapper Bladee on Eternal Martyr, whose whispered, Auto-Tuned contributions are oddly fitting to such a strange brew. It is possible to have too much of a good thing, and it’s very much an acquired taste, but if you’ve waited patiently since Pale Swordsman, you’ll have a ball sitting alone and taking a bath in this.

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