From a duo of drums and guitar this is powerful sound which compels rigorous intellectual commitment, physical-material-sonic engagement, exuberant enjoyment and radical freedom.

New album of blissfully desert-scorched jams from Yawning Man that comes over as an effortless joy to hear.

The Oregon transcendental doomsters Yob return with their raw, heart-filled record named ‘Our Raw Heart’.

Great split from two distinctive bands from the extreme underground on opposite sides of the world.

A solid record from a band who have carved out a distinctive space in dealing with harsh and difficult subject matter with bright and quirky aplomb.

Several hours’ worth of new Bong, powerfully manipulating the the fabric of time and rhythm, underwritten by the ever-present pure amplified doom drone.

Singer Milena Eva appears as if with puppet strings pulled from another dimension – an uncanny marionette, hands and eyes drifting with an otherworldly automatism . . . The songs, in addition to some great heavy post-metal dringing chords, are a balance of a skewed declamatory lines and then crystal shards of melody.

It’s wildly powerful. Halfway through, evidence appears to suggest that someone farted near me. . . they probably had no choice. The noise must be bothering the trains above, vibrating them off their rails.

While presence at the live event where this was recorded may have allowed attendees to participate in that exploration of space in the moment, unfortunately here the ‘no specific goal’ is what shines through.

Whatever one’s depth of knowledge about the mechanisms behind the music, here we have an intriguing collection of sonic constructions.

Insect Ark’s ‘Marrow Hymns’ is great once you’ve snapped into it, an accessible and interesting mix of doom constructions, with the signature element being various kinds of glisses and slides.

Legitimately up there in impossible this-can’t-actually-be-happening desert rock heaven with watching, on New Year 2012, Brant Bjork and a barefoot Scott Reeder play ‘Whitewater’ for maybe the last time together.

Twenty-five years ago, on the 3rd of February 1993, Seattle-based band Earth released their first full-length record, ‘Earth 2: Special Low Frequency Version’. The ultra-extreme yet weirdly ambient, intensely embodied but marginal and fragmented subgenre of drone metal was born.

Caveman black metal is a great descriptor from the press release here, as this new offering from Sortilegia sounds dark, shadowy, subterranean, yet viscerally primitive as well.

A brilliant combination of two performances channelling earthy, secret powers of transformation . . . in an event entitled ‘Elektrick Lycanthrope’ at Café Oto.

Washes of churning grinding scruzzz, covered in zombiechant vocals… this album definitely rewards repeat visits to its weirdly lit swampy depths.

After missing Nargaroth and Absu on the same bill back in June, it was great to get to another of Aeon Promotions trademark big shows with a stacked line-up of extremity. And it was a blast of a night. . .

The vast scope is quite staggering and requires you to sort of listen to it from a distance in order to get a view of it. Like grief, you’ve got to let it approach you slowly.

Making the most of black metal influences, but built around a dense core of the hardest death metal.

Spectacular, frothing, rattling, cold and wild black metal, thick with the thumping of paws through moss and leaves, distant stars and breath rising in the night air, wild and gripping.

A compelling EP, which dives from collage-y style explorations of texture, to distorted ambient druddering, to airy ice caves of twinkling cold.