MetalMatters: The Best Metal Albums of April 2026

The diverging black metal strands prevail in April. On one side, Black Hurst take up the mantle of Necromantia and Varathron, imbuing their sound with a classically metallic tinge. On the other hand, Evil Warriors continue to blossom from their proto-black/death dreams into an overarching, hallucinogenic extreme metal beast, their third full-length being their most potent offering to date. At the same time, Oldowan Gash focus on the French and Finnish tradition, their epic, Bathory-derived foundation imbued with a renewed sense of melody and purpose. Finally, there is of course Iron Firmament, whose Cascadian heritage has been infected by the lo-fi, necrotic inclinations of the Norwegian scene.

Further on, Lividus laid their foundation on the progressive mould, taking a cue from Hammers of Misfortune in their debut, Scarabaeus. Master’s Ashes sees veterans of off-kilter expressions in hardcore, sludge, and thrash join together, while Poison Ruïn continue to thrive in the intersections of punk and post-punk. At the very end, Reeking Aura continue their trajectory toward death metal greatness with their sophomore record. So dig in! – Spyros Stasis

Black Hurst – Purgatory of Flesh Bizarre (Nuclear War Now!)

While the dominant black metal strain rebelled against the heavy metal tradition, other strands reaffirmed the bond with it. The Hellenic black metal scene found its footing in the determined groove and progression of NWOBHM, as well as its melodic inclinations. The result was not a continuation, but a contorted version of heavy metal. It carries the spirit, but disfigures it at the same time. Through the years, many have found a home in this vision, and one of the newer acts to join are Black Hurst, who are looking to reignite it with their debut, Purgatory of Flesh Bizarre.

The pristine riffs of “Sentinels to Pagan Fire” shine with this inverted classic metallic language. Owing much to the Necromantia, circa Scarlet Evil Witching Black, style, Black Hurst retain the energy and attitude of classic metallic tropes, but a darker essence lurks within. The dark and sinister remain beneath every melodic lead and chugging riff. “Spiritual Annihilation at the Tip of a Lantern’s Whip” carries the twisted tonality that Mortuary Drape evoked first. The eerie keyboard deepens this devilish perspective, its piercing tone cutting through the heavy guitars and ushering in ancient horrors.

Keeping with these traditions, Black Hurst zero in on another aspect that made heavy metal-informed black metal stand out; its melodic inclinations. Here, the riffs don’t just chug; they resolve into hooks, echoing the striking melodic phrasing of Varathron. This same motif can be passed through a folk lens, this time echoing the more modern interpretations of that sound, with “Skyclad Return” moving closer to Macabre Omen with its big, open rendition, while “The Master’s Call” takes a cue from the thundering recital of Sabbat’s Dreamweaver.

Many bands today identify the contorted traditional metal lineage carried by the Hellenic black metal scene, or the heavy/black pioneers. But, fewer realise the decadent depths that these veterans traversed. Black Hurst belongs in this select few, leaning into an off-kilter quality, adding a volatile twist. The clean vocals of “Spiritual Annihilation at the Tip of a Lantern’s Whip” upend the pummelling progression.

Similarly, the atmospheric descent in “Possession Absurd” crafts a harrowing passage, one that gives way to a final contradiction, where Iron Maiden-derived lead work takes over. And to top it all off, they deliciously step into a bestial form, taking a South American posture, for their most animalistic moments in “Delusions Emblazon the Statuary”.

What is striking with Black Hurst is not that they are reinvigorating the traditionally metallic side of black metal, but that they understand its underlying mechanics perfectly. Their debut would be a solid album simply for its chugging and lead work, but Black Hurst take it further. They embrace all the decadence, atmosphere, meanness, and primal sense that the intersection of black and heavy metal has to offer. They do this wholeheartedly, without holding back, making Purgatory of Flesh Bizarre a compelling manifestation of this distorted lineage.

Evil Warriors – Evil Warriors (Into Endless Chaos)

Taking their name from a Possessed song, it is expected that Evil Warriors are a homage to the proto-black and death scenes. But no. Even though they started their career closer to this thrash sound, the Leipzig act soon blossomed into something far more potent, sinister, and overarching. While their debut record, Expressions of Endless Dreams, found its footing in schizoid, maniacal thrash, their sophomore, Fall From Reality, offered a deeper dive into various aspects of the black metal form. The raison d’être for Evil Warriors is no longer to pay tribute to one particular expression of extreme metal, but multiple. And that is what their third, self-titled full-length aims to deliver.

The opening alone shows much has changed. Instead of a fast-paced, thrashy beatdown, what greets the listener in “Zweifel” is an atmospheric descent to the abyss. The slow start creates an infernal ambience, the dissonant lead work piercing through the darkness. Stylistically, it carries some of Necromantia’s decadent aspirations, this dark, vampiric sense that not so much embraces evil but rather radiates it.

Once the saxophone enters, the mind quickly tries to connect it to “Evil Prayers”, but that is not what Evil Warriors are after. Instead of diving into a contorted atmospheric recital, they opt for an avant-garde touch. The rendition is frenetic, filled with a sense of craziness and energy not usually found in extreme metal. A similar break from the norm occurs in the second half of “Possessed”, where the frantic riffs with short chugs give off an off-kilter vibe.

While the bizarre offers much novelty, Evil Warriors establish their foundation in the pure black metal expression. Here, they embrace the sprawling Scandinavian black metal approach, the long-form trem riffs carrying much of the intensity and hostility of the early 1990s. There is a true grimness in these moments, one that does not feel manufactured but honest. Most importantly, there is something pummelling about these parts, and a certain tension that they retain. The shortest track of the record, “Entäußerung”, achieves this through an old-school beatdown, with its mean and aggressive attitude cutting through. The drumming feels unstoppable, and the vocals scream in anguish through the darkness.

It does not stop there. Evil Warriors cast their net across the entire spectrum of extreme metal. Orthodox inclinations rise, the venomous and simultaneously complex dissonance of Deathspell Omega and the early Icelandic scene echoing through “Suche”. On the other hand, “Fieber” retreats to the introspective, its atmospheric touches radiating an earlier, almost primordial sense of unease. For additional impact, there is always the war cries of “Possessed” that cut through, their frenzy pushing a black/death ideology to the forefront, one that is clearly informed by a thrash lineage.

It is something I have noticed in the past. When a band decides, three or four records in, to release a self-titled album, it is usually making a statement. This is no longer a case of introduction, but one of definition. Evil Warriors have journeyed through the underground, they have tapped into the proto-black/death wellspring, but they refuse to be consumed by it. In turn, they look to extreme metal as a whole and deliver a record that pays tribute to it all.

Iron Firmament – In the Land of Pre-Human Kings (Wergild)

Iron Firmament are one of the most exciting underground black metal bands today, not only for their songwriting but for the way they attempt to join two traditions that rarely coexist. Since the days of their self-titled debut, the Washington band has been mixing the raw, lo-fi underground sound with a Cascadian black metal spirit. These two sides often seemed to wrestle with each other, the frenetic, highly distorted attacks clashing with dark folk passages. Their new record, In the Land of Pre-Human Kings, is the latest attempt at reconciling these two lineages, and it does so with an interesting twist.

The openly folk-injected elements are mostly absent here, with Iron Firmament instead morphing them into a minimal ambient approach. “Blue Blades Flame and Crimson” sees this otherworldly quality take form, awakening the same mystical essence present in their original folk dimensionality. The title track drives this point further, swapping the dark forest scenery for one of an alien planet, with its own history of battle and conflict. It is still drenched in the same melancholy and sadness found in Iron Firmament or Cascadian Tactics, but it breathes a sense of depth and grandeur.

This shift further enhances the always epic sense of Iron Firmament’s raw black metal. Here, the Moonblood methodology is tempered with a sorrowful edge coming from the Cascadian surroundings. The start to “The Coast of Worlds” best exemplifies this mode, its ragged riffs and carefully structured rhythms imbuing the soaring melodies with a towering presence. It feels like a barbaric tale of loss and tragedy unfolding before your eyes. It also naturally leads to Iron Firmament’s more reclusive moments, in the likes of “Atlantis in Permafrost”, where the quasi-folk hermitic visions of Sort Vokter balance raw energy and lo-fi distortion with a stronger melodic backbone.

The success of In The Land of Pre-Human Kings is in Iron Firmament’s handling of these divergent directions. Their folk dimension has not so much disappeared as melted into the raw black metal form. Now, the ambient passages further fuel the lo-fi fires, their minimal setting still radiating with the same sense of mystique and wonder that their acoustic applications did in the past. It makes In the Land of Pre-Human Kings an excellent addition to their discography, one that honours their past while revealing an evolution and a sharpening of their craft.

Lividus – Scarabaeus (Nameless Grave)

Progressive inclinations in extreme metal are rarely the foundation. They are subordinated to the black, death, or thrash components of the sound, but there are exceptions to this rule, like the seminal Hammers of Misfortune. Lividus walk that same path with their debut, Scarabaeus, laying a progressive foundation for other sounds to flourish.

From the start of “Jettatori”, Lividus unleash a flurry of blows. The vocal delivery is versatile and ever-changing, alternating between cutthroat growls and big, soaring clean crescendos. The drumming is impeccable, its fine intricacies adding versatility and depth to the progression. And then the thickly layered guitars mould everything together. Here, Lividus succeed in a difficult task. They can form this impenetrable wall of sound while allowing the different guitar themes to encompass their own space. Melodies interact, they evolve together, and the result is simply overwhelming.

The reference to the circa Overtaker Hammers of Misfortune here is undeniable. Lividus radiate a similar strangeness; their combination of complex mechanics and emotive vocal performance in “Viaticum” takes its cue from the progressive metal veterans. Here, they go the full distance, with “they blew the flies…” taking a turn for the more minimal and reclusive, appearing almost like a lounge music break amidst the chaos. On the other hand, they inherit some of the doom approach, with “Sulphur” enacting a ragged progression, heavy and wild before melting into the viola-led folk theme.

Staying close to such a unique-sounding act without losing one’s identity is difficult, so Lividus make further inclusions to break the mould. Their thrash elements descend from a mid-period Voivod perspective. It does not carry the same dissonant edge of the Canadian act, but rather its momentum, and their extravagant results are obvious in “Amphisbaena”. At the same time, they look into Nevermore’s modern-sounding contortion of heavy and power metal. “The Empty Circle” best exemplifies this, with the strong, vocal performance combining with the viola passages.

The additional incorporations help lift the single point of reference for Lividus, but they do not completely alleviate it. Scarabaeus is still an excellent work, a fun record to listen to, filled with intricacy, unpredictability, and variety. However, it relies on its influences a bit more heavily and therefore does not allow a fully formed identity to emerge. But, given the quality of their songwriting, this is definitely coming next.

Master’s Ashes – How the Mighty Have Fallen (Time to Kill)

Master’s Ashes sees 1990s underdogs band together. The two prominent figures here are Eric (E-Force) Forrest and Afzaal Deen. The former is best known for his time with Voivod, on two criminally underrated records: Negatron and Phobos. The latter navigated novel intersections between death/thrash and hardcore/sludge with Crisis, another sorely under-appreciated act.

In Forrest’s case, his excellent work with Voivod was overshadowed by the band’s already stellar discography. With Deen, his off-kilter take bouncing between hardcore and metal never grabbed the scene’s attention. It is in later years that their contributions were reassessed, and that makes the Master’s Ashes debut a potential return for a forgotten scene.

Master’s Ashes’ debut, How the Mighty Have Fallen, has two gears. The more aggressive register, where they tap into the dissonance and momentum of Voivod, but without evoking the same sense of speed. “Divert the Conflict III” displays this attitude, crashing down with heavy momentum. The drumming here is fitting, not flashy but purposeful, adding flourishes and enriching the progression.

However, it is the second gear that comes on top, and this is where Master’s Ashes shine. The songs unfold through a Neurosis-derived atmospheric approach. “Defiant Disorder” takes on a ragged groove, its dark and towering form rising through the determined pacing. Heavy guitars and off-kilter electronics combine to create an apocalyptic presence that draws from the doom tradition.

It is easy to see the connection to Crisis’s masterwork, The Hollowing. How the Mighty Have Fallen carries the same heavy presence, combining it with a deeply crafted atmosphere. It is a joining of traditions, where the Black Sabbath lineage, with its heavy riffs and gruelling pace, clashes against the Amebix structural approach. It is an old tale, the push and pull between hardcore and doom that results in the sludge bleakness. This is a tension that Deen deeply understands, and Master’s Ashes channel it flawlessly.

The sludge mould, on its own, is a potent tool, but it can also serve as fertile ground. The slow pace, heavy guitars, and despairing vocals can naturally tilt the process toward psychedelia. This is where the Phobos DNA comes in, where the sludge mechanics open up to produce a decadent, simultaneously otherworldly motif.

What ties everything together is neither the guitars nor the pacing, but the keyboards. They enrich the background with their rich texture, breathing a harrowing sense into the slow movement. They achieve this without overpowering the compositions, but rather by complementing the riffs and harsh vocals. The slow hardcore now turns darker, the sludge despair being palpable through the gloomy presence of the keyboards.

How the Mighty Have Fallen carries the spark of its individual members’ past experiences. The intersections of extreme music, the fusion of metal and hardcore, the dark atmosphere, and the sense of psychedelia are all delivered valiantly. The only downside is that Master’s Ashes are walking on an existing path rather than forging their own. Maybe that is something that will come over time, but for the moment, their debut is a strong reminder of a forgotten time and scene, and how brilliant that was.

Oldowan Gash – 1000 Dreams of War (Amor Fati)

With “Fighting Forever”, the closing track from Oldowan Gash’s 1000 Dreams of War, playing in the background, I look at the image of anonymous main man, The Forlon Spirit, performing live in a Bathory shirt, and everything just clicks. The music itself shares few stylistic or sonic traits with the great Swedish act, but the underlying feeling, this epic perspective imbued by a deep sense of melancholy, is there. It is a type of sadness that occurs amidst battle, rather than one that admits defeat.

Instead of Bathory’s first wave aspirations and their galloping thrash-informed riffs, Oldowan Gash have always found inspiration in the melodic lines of the French and Finnish black metal scenes. Listening back to their debut, it is undeniable that Sargeist circa Let the Devil In is embedded in the riffs of “Blinding Moon”. In 1000 Dreams of War, they continue to be a guiding light, imbuing the bitter parts with soaring and triumphant melodies. “Catechism of Shame Pt. II” best encapsulates this side, its barbaric attack cloaking a latent sense of melody akin to Cénotaphe’s latest opus, Chimères. Yet the real catalyst behind 1000 Dreams of War lies elsewhere.

Despite the underlying epic vision and the melodic applications, Oldowan Gash take a more spartan approach to their black metal. There is a single-mindedness, an intense focus, that defines their progression and sense of urgency. “Catechism of Shame Pt. I” immediately introduces this mode, the riffs and drumming forming a relentless recital that never wavers. Their changes are minimal, mirroring the hermetic repetition of Arckanum. In turn, this brings in a hallucinogenic element, which is not created from external applications but rather by dedication to the form. It rises from decadent fumes, much like in the great works of Akitsa, which they channel with the start of “Brides of Orlok”. It has an immediate, primal, and dangerous impact, but it also offers an elevated mystical quality.

Even there, Oldowan Gash do not follow the norm. They combine the hermetic and decadent lineage with current-day interpretations. The guitar work itself is fairly constrained, but at times it explodes into more expressive motifs, closer to Fin and Grave Pilgrim. It never reaches the same levels of extravagance, instead favouring balance. And it is within this philosophy that 1000 Dreams of War rises above. At the surface, Oldowan Gash can appear as a decent black metal band.

However, a closer look reveals a much richer well. Their black metal fuses hermetic minimalism with flashes of modern extravagance, while still channeling the barbaric melodicism of the Finnish scene. Most importantly, it looks back to the glorious epic past first envisioned by Quorthon, not to nostalgically rehash it, but to honour it in its own way. – Spyros Stasis

Poison Ruïn – Hymns from the Hills (Relapse)

There is a fine line between nostalgia and re-enactment. Channeling earlier times mechanically might be easy, but if the feeling is not right, then the effort appears pointless. Poison Ruïn have always danced around this dichotomy, at times offering tribute to the old greats, but at their best seeming to step directly into their skin. Their new work, Hymns from the Hills, tilts the balance toward the latter, going further in inhabiting the time and space when punk and post-punk intersected.

At its core lies the punk attitude, and it can be felt in its primal, urgent presence. “Pilgrimage” takes on a rugged progression, bringing down heavy riffs over the monolithic rhythmic structures. “Turn to Dust” goes for a more energetic sound, with its D-beat acceleration breathing a sense of uncontrollable energy. On top of this foundation, Poison Ruïn weave their deathrock and post-punk mechanics.

“Serpent’s Curse” lives in the intersection, the sweet spot between punk aggression and otherworldliness, its flow still carrying a punk-styled drive but its guitar work much closer to the early post-punk awkwardness. It is this style of playing that allows Poison Ruïn to tap into different scenes, with “Lily of the Valley” channelling a garage vibe, its lighter passages contrasting with a more sardonic undercurrent, a tension similar to that found on the sole Beastmilk record.

Poison Ruïn’s re-enactment is not solely confined to the punk and post-punk scenes. This has always been the case, but with Hymns from the Hills, they are making a stronger statement about this. The folk tones are sharper, the acoustic guitar in the title track producing a fantastically bizarre trip across the fey, while the synth-driven “Howls from the Citadel” offers a reclusive nod to the neofolk generation. It naturally builds into a quasi-industrial rendition that has much in common with the early Psychic TV material, but even more so with Killing Joke’s seminal debut. “Crescent Sun” is the most stunning of these moments, as it melts the organic into the mechanical, contorting the strict industrial schemes with abrupt, scathing movements toward something more mystical.

On top of all that, classic heavy metal ideas of the rugged variety find their place here. The guitar leads in “Eidolon” scream with the streetwise vibe of early Thin Lizzy, while the doom motifs of “Sleeping Giant” drive a Black Sabbath locomotive with a touch of neofolk magic. Still, the most surprising moment is “The Standoff”, where the scorching start escapes the confines of the 1970s and 1980s, its black metal pulse offering the final grin before the curtain falls.

With the re-enactment complete and the stage emptied, Poison Ruïn have come closest to their original goal of embedding themselves in the lineage of early punk and post-punk. Hymns from the Hills is a powerful listen, filled with nostalgia, but delivered in a way that doesn’t read as a mere tribute but rather as a continuation of a tradition.

Reeking Aura – On the Promise of the Moon (Profound Lore)

Reeking Aura’s debut, Blood and Bonemeal, is a culmination of diverging death metal schools of thought coming together. In a 30-minute tour de force, the New York band combines brutal, technical death metal with the festering essence of Autopsy. They also add fragments of death/doom and atmospheric passages for good measure. Their sophomore full-length, On the Promise of the Moon, upholds this commitment while also charting a path forward.

The death metal foundation still relies on tradition. The schizoid solos to “Gorged Beyond Grudges” carry the dissonant language of Autopsy, while its primal, caveman-like recital shapes the groove. The awkward progression owes much to the Reifert & co.’s modus operandi, imbuing a sense of volatility with its erratic rhythms in “Sifting for Fungal Inheritance (A Mildewy, Acrid Mulch)”. At the same time, the brutal perspective remains central. The early Cryptopsy sound prevails from the outset. The drumming follows this relentless pattern. It delivers a continuous beatdown that can fluidly alternate between slow, gruelling pacing, faster, blastbeat-driven moments, and, finally, a devastating mid-tempo groove.

Where Reeking Aura expanded their death metal mould is in their use of atmospheric parts. That was already prominent in their debut, tying together the festering Autopsy lineage with an otherworldly quality. Their sophomore sticks to it, with “A Forlon and Frozen Vapor” allowing clean guitars to take over, weaving together pretty and elusive melodies. It is a needed break from the onslaught, and when stretched, they reach quasi-psychedelic levels.

The final part of “Gorged Beyond Grudges” sees the striking melodies align for a progressively inclined rendition, stepping away from their dissonant foundation. Even more impressive is the lead work to “Manure Like Magma,” where the melodies hit an emotive tone, in turn adding depth to the death metal stampede.

In Blood and Bonemeal, these melodic inclinations are mostly isolated from the main parts. They act as breaks, or interludes. However, On the Promise of the Moon, the melodies have found their way into the death metal structures. It is an application similar to how Bolt Thrower introduce melodies within their death metal, not to soften it up but to give it a distinct gear and a further sense of momentum. Reeking Aura do not use the same mechanics as Bolt Thrower, but their technical brutal death parts now radiate a strong sense of melody.

Both the title track and “What Only Worms Witness” show a more ragged, early-Edge-of-Sanity inclination. This gives an electrifying surge to the progression, the melodies tying traditionally inclined metal to the band’s death metal form, and giving the tracks an epic spin. They sound bigger, more robust with this inclusion.

The success of On the Promise of the Moon is in Reeking Aura’s ability to honour their past, but also move beyond its boundaries. Their stronger introduction of melodies and hooks puts their death metal foundation into higher gear and drive, but, most importantly, it does not remove any of its decadent stench. It is a tension between melody and putrefaction that has reached a rare stalemate. On the Promise of the Moon thrives through this underlying pressure, with Reeking Aura delivering their finest moment yet.