Doom, death, the roots of metal, and a band of frogs: This month’s highlights from the underground

Easter’s been and gone, and once again Jesus flaked out on coming back. Lazy. But if it’s returns you’re after, there were a couple of killer comebacks in the metal underground this month – most notably from legendary Spanish extremists Teitanblood who, along with probably not giving a shit about Easter, dropped their first new album in six years with very little forewarning, the stunning From The Visceral Abyss.

As with 2019’s The Baneful Choir, there’s a touch more clarity to their scalding wall of Satanic noise than on 2009’s legendary Seven Chalices or 2014’s pithily-named Death, but this only adds to the fire. Opener Enter The Hypogeum and the title-track are furious blasts of dark chaos, the sounds of a war in Hell channelled through instruments, with a haunting, doomy undertone and the atmosphere of an ossuary sitting atop the whole thing. And it’s absolutely relentless as well, without ever exhausting the listener – indeed, the battery of it all, coupled with the unexpected, barely-controlled leads that explode out of the din, are invigorating, full of infectious rage. Another triumph for one of the jewels of metal’s underbelly.

Also making a welcome return, albeit far less aggressively, are British doom legends Pagan Altar. In 2017, following the death of singer Terry Jones two years previously, guitarist (and son) Alan Jones finished and released their The Book Of Shadows album. Now they present the aptly-titled Never Quite Dead, an album almost entirely made up of songs with roots going back to while Terry was still alive, with new singer Brendan Radigan doing his predecessor proud. The classic Pagan Altar NWOBHM sound is always a welcome listen, particularly on the organ-backed occult rock of Liston Church (also featuring some truly killer lead work from Alan), the Candlemass-ish The Dead's Last March, and Well Of Despair’s true doom lament. A fine tribute to their late frontman, and a very welcome addition to the discography of an oft-unjustly overlooked band.

With an even more old-school vibe, legendary doom/stoner/psych/freak-out label Rise Above have gathered together 10 genuinely lost tracks of proto-metal and presented them all on vinyl for the first time ever on the brilliantly-named Yeah Man, It’s Bloody Heavy! compilation. Songs like Who Knows, Who Cares by Heavyboots, recorded in 1969, and B.O.M.B.’s greasy, sleazy Won’t You Take Me (1971) are basically Uncle Acid And The Deadbeats from the appropriate time period, and it’s absolutely brilliant. As is the wild Witchcraft by the awesomely-named Macbeth Periscope, and speedy Heathen Woman by Crimson Earth.

Out West, there’s something heavy lurking in the swamps from Bristol’s Froglord. On their new Metamorphosis album, they continue to be leagues better than a band in frog masks has any right to. The idea may be endearingly ludicrous, but when they get down to business, they’re a solid bet for anyone looking for good, heavy stoner stuff, with a nice line in Orange Goblin-y riffs and nod-along grooves, particularly on Follow The Star, the fuzz-blues of Herman, or the dramatic Emergence Of The Toad.

For those who like their doom to hit like an elephant sitting on their head, here’s Conan with their seventh full-length, Violence Dimension. Jon Davis’ ability to twist such an apparently easy thing – loads of amps and fuzz, negative tuning, thudding away on the same not for much of the riff – into as many shapes as he continues to do here remains a thing of brilliance, as does his knack with a title. See: Ocean Of Boiling Skin. They change gear into faster territory like on Total Bicep (told you: titles) and the almost hardcore pummelling Warpsword, but also descend the other way on closer Vortexxion, 12 minutes of drone that’s actually rather satisfying in its single mindedness. Never change, Conan.

Getting even further into the abyss, there’s the reissue of the self-titled demo by Australian death-doom outfit Grotesque Bliss. Comprising members of Temple Nightside and Grave Upheaval (a band whose music could define the word ‘morbid’), it’s no surprise that this is a thoroughly heavy work of suffocating misery. Calling to mind the likes of Disembowelment, Evoken and the earliest blasts of My Dying Bride, this is a must-check-out for anyone seeking a beyond-heavy, funereal listening experience. As if to underscore the point, they’ve included a cover of MDB’s I Am The Bloody Earth, so heavy it makes the original sound like the band were having a party.

Meanwhile, over in Portugal, there’s been a delivery of punishing black metal from Vetus Sanguis, courtesy of their Capítulo I – Dinensão Horrenda album. Satisfyingly coarse around the edges, they thrash with a malevolent evil that charges at a bracing gallop, bringing to mind Tsjuder or a more raw Dark Funeral. And, bonus, they’ve included a killer cover of Discharge’s classic The Possibility Of Life’s Destruction, which puts on the corpse-paint surprisingly well.

And finally, for something a bit more lighthearted, Haken guitarist Charlie Griffiths recently stepped out with his other band Tiktaalika and their Gods Of Pangaea album. It’s basically him having a riot with a bunch of his mates, with the result sounding like Megadeth, with loads of finger-snapping guitar technicality, barbed-wire melody and sharp turns, all shepherded together into a bunch of satisfying bangers. See Tyrannicide and Give Up The Ghost for absolute ’Deth-isms, but elsewhere, like on big chugger The Forbidden Zone, there’s a bit more room to breathe and bring in a bit more of their own colour.

Read this next:

• The 15 greatest death metal albums of the ’90s
• The story of doom metal in 29 songs
• NECKBREAKKER: “We wanted to make an old-school death metal album that hits in the same way as a modern hardcore record”