All posts by Dan Obstkrieg

Happily committed to the foolish pursuit of words about sounds. Not actually a dinosaur.

Deadborn – Mayhem Maniac Machine Review

For better or worse, Mayhem Maniac Machine sounds almost exactly like its cover art, which features a human skeleton fused with a vaguely steampunk-looking killing machine: syringes and bolted joints, a finger gear-locked on the

Panopticon – Kentucky Review

People are not rootless. Even economic migrants, or a generation born in exile, or the war-displaced, or an endless diaspora, or the homeless – all retain a sense of place that shapes their identity, even

Ihsahn – Eremita Review

Art moves, or it dies. While never fully escaping the shadow of history, while always subject to what Harold Bloom called the withering ‘anxiety of influence’, art is an ellipsis, not a period. Art cannot

Marduk – Serpent Sermon Review

Whether rightly or wrongly, Marduk had become something of an extreme metal punch line by the late 1990s and early 2000s. (Example: Q: How many Marduks does it take to screw in a lightbulb? A:

Dawnbringer – Into The Lair Of The Sun God Review

Back in 2010, Dawnbringer’s fourth album Nucleus arrived on Profound Lore with a groundswell of acclaim. Given Profound Lore’s reputation for unnervingly consistent quality, and Dawnbringer mainman Chris Black’s impeccable pedigree in High Spirits, Superchrist,

Six Feet Under – Undead Review

Listening to Six Feet Under, particularly during a year in which Cannibal Corpse has also released a new album, is a bit like making a political statement: It comes down to an intensely personal calculus,

Royal Thunder – CVI Review

Royal Thunder’s self-titled EP, released late in 2010, was an unassumingly excellent first statement from a young band bristling with potential. The Atlanta, Georgia band’s earnest, soulful take on Southern-inflected rock with a rippling undercurrent

Ides Of Gemini – Constantinople Review

Los Angeles trio Ides of Gemini is nothing if not evocative. For this particular listener, Constantinople conjures images of a caravan trudging into some unknowable wilderness, wrapped in the gauzy patina of memory. The music