If you want to feel like a failure…

Welcome back to Former Clarity and, boy, what a weird year it's been. There are a few things I'll be writing to you about soon, but they're not quite ready for public consumption just yet. When they are, you'll be the first to know.

Recently, I've been actively divesting from the rat race of online music consumption and commentary. So many new releases come out every week—hell, every day—and while I'm still finding plenty of things I like (more on that below), what I've been enjoying most is digging into albums I haven't touched in a while. As a result, I've spent much of my time running through discographies of bands whose records and tapes sit within 10 feet of my office chair instead of checking out new releases because of some strange, obligatory feeling.

That's the beauty of physical media, I don't have to spend time scrolling through Bandcamp or staring at the blank search bars of Tidal or YouTube to figure out what I should be listening to. Instead, I get to stand up, comb through the stacks, and choose something I've already deemed worthy and remind myself why I felt that way in the first place. Though it's a simple, pedestrian thought—to appreciate what's already in your orbit—I think it's an action that's spurred by how deeply uninspired I am by internet culture lately. Trust me, I am aware of the thick coat of irony encasing that statement, but while I used to derive some pleasure from podcasts, social media, and forums, with a million negative inputs coming at me from every single angle these days, I find it's better to cut the punditry from my life and just make due with what I need, when I need it. Call it an internet scarcity mindset, but I feel I'm much better off since adopting it.

Now, with a quarter of the year nearly over—time sure does move, doesn't it?—here are some pieces of new music that I've been compelled by. I hope you check them out and find something that speaks to you as much as it does me.

Corpus Offal, Corpus Offal

I first discovered Seattle's Cerebral Rot when their 2018 demo Cessation of Life hit, and immediately, I was a fan. Their debut LP, Odious Descent Into Decay, followed a year later and deepened those sentiments, as it mixed Incantation's murkiness with the loose, rollicking rhythms you'd find on an Autopsy record. Though Incantation clones were already popping up regularly by then, and are emerging constantly now, Cerebral Rot took that specific reference point and brought a more jovial approach to that source material. That carefree feeling was driven home each of the three times I saw Cerebral Rot live, as vocalist-guitarist Ian Schwab would, after literally every song, hold his beer can in the air and exclaim, "FUGGIN' CHEEERS." It was the same tone each time, like it was being played from a tape at the sound board. It was a reminder that death metal can be goofy and fun, and it endeared me to the band all the more.

It was fitting that the announcement of Cerebral Rot's demise was in tandem with the birth of Corpus Offal, like they just shrugged off their band ending and said, "Fuck it, we'll start a new one." Featuring Schwab and the other guitarist from Cerebral Rot Clyle Lindstrom, plus bassist Jason Sachs, and drummer Jesse Shreibman of Bell Witch, Corpus Offal immediately sprang to life with a two-song demo. Those tracks showed promise but felt, mostly, like an extension of the sound Cerebral Rot explored on 2021's Excretion of Mortality, a serviceable record that felt like a clear step down from what the band had to offer on Odious Descent Into Decay.

Now there's Corpus Offal, an eponymously titled debut that shows Excretion of Mortality was more of a stepping stone than a fully formed idea. After a brief intro, the six songs here are all hefty, with the longest just cracking the twelve-minute mark and the shortest being a hair over six minutes. While this all could feel indulgent, it captures what worked about Cerebral Rot but twists the formula enough to feel distinct. Sheirbman's drumming is far faster and looser than what he's known for in Bell Witch, but it brings back some of the Chris Reifert-isms that felt lacking from the second Cerebral Rot full-length. While there are still murky Incantation riffs galore, everything feels more expansive this time around.

Records like this often snuff out open space and become all-consuming, but I don't feel that here. The production is slicker, but that doesn't result in a loss of atmosphere. If anything, it only adds to it. You're no longer exploring a labyrinthian cave in the pitch black, you've found a flashlight and can now make out the watery muck that's rushing up to your ankles, and it's not a pretty sight.

Headsplitters, Curse of Life

The last few years, I've been intrigued by the current crop of crusty, anarcho-adjacent bands coming out of New York City. The label Peace of Mind offered a great inroad to this, and I'm using the past tense because, if the dead URL that used to lead to their website is any indication, those days may be behind us. Regardless, it was Headsplitters presence on the Peace of Mind In a Troubled World compilation that reminded me of this band's existence, and their latest album Curse of Life has been on regular rotation since it dropped.

Though Curse of Life starts out referencing the more extreme bits of Headsplitters' sound, as you get deeper into the record, the band's melodic sensibilities become more prominent, revealing a borderline street-punk sensibility. It's the balance between raging D-beat sections and mid-tempo melodic stomps that gives Curse of Life this feeling that you're hearing both sides of the UK82 sound come together as one. Curse of Life isn't reinventing anything; it just takes a simple premise and executes it masterfully, as all the best punk does.

Iron Lung, Adapting // Crawling

Okay, this record isn't out for another three weeks, BUT I spoke to both members of Iron Lung for Evan Minsker's see-saw and I'm deeply proud of it and want you to read it. I also want you to listen to this record when it comes out. Iron Lung have been a favorite band of mine for years, and this record lives up to the improbably high standards I hold for them. I truly can't recommend Adapting // Crawling enough. And since that interview is so long, I won't say much more than that.

The Massacred, Nightmare Agitators

And the award for Most Disappointing First Listen goes to… Nightmare Agitators!

So why is it on this list? Well, as I alluded to in the intro above, I ended up spending a lot of time with this record since its release in late January. I know carrying outsized expectations for a piece of art is always stupid, because the real thing rarely lives up to what you've made something out to be in your head, but I'd been following The Massacred since their first demo and had liked every new release substantially more than the last. Given that 2024's Death March 7-inch was one of my favorite punk records of the year, I just assumed that, if past trends could predict future occurrences, I'd like Nightmare Agitators even more. But it didn't end up working out that way.

That said, I'm glad I've given this one so much time, because what I initially read as a drawn back, mid-tempo version of The Massacred revealed itself to be one of the better hardcore punk albums in recent memory simply because it was trying to be an album. The intermittently slower pace allows different elements of the band's sound to come to the front, giving the vocalist space to back off and let the guitar and bass carry melodic motifs through longer passages, creating hooks that aren't so tightly locked into sing-along choruses. It's also nice to hear an intense, ripping punk record that gives riffs time to breathe, letting moments build up and cascade back down in a fully controlled manner. Every time I go back to this album, I like it more than I did the last time, and I can only imagine how deeply in love with this I'll be by the end of the year.

Mephitic Corpse, Sickness Attracts Sickness

I never thought I'd see the day that the mainstream hardcore scene was obsessed with slam and brutal death metal. I've seen a lot of trends come in and out of that world over the past 20-plus years, and I've got to say, this one's the most surprising. Even at hardcore's most brutish, there was always a premium placed on lyrics and sing-along moments, as those pile-ons at the front of the stage were a staple for a reason. Now, hardcore is in its commercial EDM era, with backing tracks and 808 triggers, making everything oriented, exclusively, for the live show and de-emphasizing the importance of a lasting recorded document.

Why do I bring that up here? Well, for one, I'm picky about brutal death metal. It's a narrow lane for me, and it's something that, even at its best, I will very rarely revisit with any regularity. And right now, when checking out a new hardcore release feels like listening to C-tier Devourment, I don't have particularly warm feelings toward the genuine articles either. That's why this Mephitic Corpse album is so noteworthy, because it is locked into these trendy aspects but is so far and away better than almost anything else from this world in the past year.

The Immortal Fate influence is palpable here—and no, not just because of that one sample—and that's a pretty quick way to get me interested in this ultra-extreme take on grinding, gory death metal. The vocals are low and unintelligible, the guitars are '90s solid state tone pushed to the max, and the snare drum goes ping, but the craft behind these songs is what sets Mephitic Corpse apart. Aside from just getting the tones right, there's an intention behind the riffs, which lends a grotesque bit of logic that you can follow from the beginning of each song to the end. When Mephitic Corpse decide to slow down into a mosh-worthy slam part, it's done deliberately and then flows into the next section cleanly, a concept that's becoming increasingly rare these days.

In a world of cheap, dollar store extremity, Mephitic Corpse proves that just because you're music is meant for the braindead, it's still better when you put actual thought into it.

Pyrex, Body

I don't know what the singer of Pyrex looks like and, frankly, I don't want to know. When I listen to Body, the image I conjure in my head is of a mix between The Mentally Ill's Sado Marquis and The Germs' Darby Crash; a singer with wild hair, a demented voice, and they're inexplicably wearing gloves. Not cool-guy, Deafheaven gloves, I'm talking about something they shoplifted from Home Depot. They sing mostly from a contorted position, less concerned with hitting notes as much as expressing a mood. That's what I picture when I listen to Body.

Normally, this style of punk doesn't thrill me. Pyrex is clearly pulling from more of the post-punk, disaffected side of things, as the guitars are all soft edges caked in reverb, and the drums are pretty slow and hi-hat heavy, but where other bands in this style lose their intensity, Pyrex's venom is palpable. When they do kick things into high gear, like on the album highlight "Nerve Ends," I'm completely rapt. Again, it's that vocalist, whose repeated declarations of "I am the candy man" feel more and more unhinged, recalling the aforementioned Sado Marquis on "Gacy's Place," that makes me lightly uncomfortable and completely engaged. It's weirdo, outsider punk done completely right, and I hope whatever they cook up next is just as good.

Oh, just one more thing: If any of you send me a photo or live video that breaks my illusion about this band, I will fight you.

Teitanblood, From The Visceral Abyss

In early December of 2024, Spain's Teitanblood teased that a new album was imminent, and I spent most of that month waiting for its release. Why did I think it was going to hit before the calendar turned over to 2025? Until then, this studio-only entity had released a full-length in precise five-year intervals. There were demos, splits, and EPs in between, but since 2009, every five years, there was a new Teitanblood record. I just assumed they'd release a new album in the waning days of 2024 to keep that streak alive. I was wrong.

Released less than a week ago, From The Visceral Abyss is the latest, and likely last, record from these black-death pacesetters. In the dribs and drabs of pre-release materials, they not-so-subtly hinted that Teitanblood was dead, which is always interesting to me when a band that only functions as a studio project breaks up. It's not like there are touring commitments or press interviews or, honestly, much of anything other than churning out a new album every half-decade. With that in mind, I began to wonder if maybe the band's tank had gone empty and the new album would prove as much. After all, 2019's The Baneful Choir was polarizing, with people being put off by the dark ambient elements and slower tempos. Maybe it was a sign of things to come.

Thankfully, it was not. I can't express how much of a thrill I got hearing the opening track "Enter the Hypogeum" for the first time. The track starts, and the guitars and drums feel distant, like they've been pulled back in the mix, so you turn your volume up a few notches to get the full picture. Of course, as soon as you do, you're hit with a cleverly deployed, eardrum-assaulting volume jump designed to make you throw your headphones off in disgust. It's a choice that's so over the top it feels like a direct response to the people who found The Baneful Choir's moodiness off-putting.

From there, "Enter the Hypogeum" is all intensity, all the time. The drumming on this record is an obvious standout, but I'm struck by how much fun I hear on this recording. Before, there was a serious, dour tone to Teitanblood, as there is for most of this war metal-style stuff, but this thing's a party. That is, until the closing track "Tomb Corpse Haruspex" signals that this is, in fact, the final Teitanblood album. By bringing back the sample that opened Seven Chalices, it suggests a closing of the circle, an endpoint that sounds exactly like the band's beginning. I hope that I'm wrong and in another five years (or maybe six) there will be a new Teitanblood record. But, if not, they've left behind a nearly flawless discography. That's something worth upholding, too.

Rapid-fire Recommendations

I've decided to try a new thing where, if I don't have a ton to say about something, but still generally like it, I'll hit you with a shorter review. Let's see how this goes.

Aberrate, Grounded

Tokyo crust that was released last year in Japan and got a domestic pressing via Acute Noise Manufacture earlier this year. I can't find a stream of this online anywhere, but if you're looking for noise-drenched crust, you can find it here.

Fellwinter, Son of Blackened Darkness

Not the best Blood & Crescent release, but an extremely solid addition to the Fellwinter discography.

Nisemono, Nisemono

This is members of Warthog and L.O.T.I.O.N. doing Japanese-inspired hardcore punk. I like it, but I'm not fully there with it just yet. It definitely scratches that itch, though.

Phrenelith, Ashen Womb

I've been waiting for the new Phrenelith to fully engross me, and it just hasn't yet. It's good, but it's not quite great, at least not yet.

Silent Thunder, Soulspear

A new EP from M. of Lamp of Murmuur. I need to spend more time with this, but it's nice, melancholic black metal. He also released a track under the name Magus Lord, and I'm interested in what will come from that, too.

Terror Corpse, Systems of Apocalypse

First demo from the new band featuring members of Insect Warfare and Malignant Altar. It falls more on the death metal side than the grindcore side, but I'm digging this and will be interested to see how they develop from here.

Classic pick from the shelf: Krill, Lucky Leaves

How important is a singer's voice? My guess is it's pretty important to most people. I feel like quirky vocalists are a quick way to make the average person tune out of something. I don't mean people who scream or growl, though that's certainly its own thing, I'm talking about the real eccentrics: Tim Kinsella, Doc Dart, Tom Björk, people like that. Jonah Furman is one of those singers, and I can all but guarantee Krill would have been worse off if they had someone else singing these songs.

Maybe it's just me, but when I hear a true weirdo vocalist, I can't help but feel the impact of their words and melodies more than if they were a traditionally skilled one. In the case of Krill, Jonah's not striving to hit notes as much as he emotes in ways that serve the stories he's telling, so every warble and squeak is placed in a way that can't be divested from the content of his words.

But then there are those moments, the ones on "Purity of Heart" and "Infinite Power," where he completely lets loose. His awkward, high-pitched delivery gets louder and louder until he's full-on screaming, and you can hear the microphone react to this change. It's unexpected, jutting out and startling the listener, sending the signal into the red. It's an intentional choice that could so easily feel rote if overdone, but it's an example of how this just makes me believe Jonah and Krill even more.

Lucky Leaves is not without faults, but that's exactly why it works. Life is a series of faults, your ambitions and hopes not coming together as you initially planned. In that way, form perfectly meets function on Lucky Leaves, and that's exactly what makes Krill so special.