One listen of Forsaken Man, the latest demo from the up-and-coming Rhode Island doom metal power trio, and it’s plainly clear: these dudes are out to crush some skulls.

Guitarist and singer Jon Rossi (who also handled bass duties on this recording) riffs and sings with sheer power, while drummer Krolg hammers away without mercy.

“Quest,” the demo’s B-side, keeps the intensity level high with an epic feel and displays not only Rossi’s songwriting abilities but also his prowess as a soulful lead guitarist, and studious Tony Iommi disciple.

Speaking of Black Sabbath (as well as old masters like Count Raven, Candlemass, Electric Wizard, Lord Vicar and Saint Vitus), there aren’t many newer bands out there that are keeping this ancient music alive and well. Fortunately, Pilgrim have landed.

They’ve made all of their demos—Forsaken Man included—available for free at this location. Download, listen and worship. Hail Pilgrim.

Cradle of Filth
Darkly, Darkly, Venus Aversa
Peaceville/Nuclear Blast
****

From the gothic harpsichord intro, tailor-made for an ancient black-and-white horror flick, to the sputtered-and-hissed poetry that closes Cradle of Filth’s Darkly, Darkly, Venus Aversa, the English metal icons are in fine form on their ninth album. Although Dani Filth and his bandmates don’t venture too far from the chaotic shrieking of their last album, 2008’s Godspeed on the Devil’s Thunder—or any recent Cradle album, for that matter—they sound more mature as a group right from the start. 

The first four tracks offer a relentless combination of breakneck riffs, rattling blast beats, and unsettling gothic atmosphere. Frontman Filth’s soaring screeches, coupled with his unearthly barks, conjured straight from the beasts of Dartmoor that haunt the band’s native country, sound violent and merciless. Just when this rapid-fire onslaught starts to become monotonous, the band switches gears on “Deceiving Eyes,” which opens with a riff that could have been taken from Pig Destroyer’s grindcore repertoire. And they build off this on “The Spawn of Love and War,” another highlight, which could be the soundtrack to a sickening carnival dark ride, with its dissonant string sections and piano lines. But nowhere is the group’s greater sense of self more evident, than on Venus Aversa’s black-metal ballad “The Persecution Song.” The song blends a catchy, melodic chorus with bleak wails and a chilling atmosphere more convincingly than past efforts, like “Nymphetamine.”

The only missteps are on tracks like “Lilith Immaculate” and “Forgive Me Father (I Have Sinned),” which cross into cheesiness because of female narrations that are even more over-the-top than usual for the band. The album closer, “Beyond Eleventh Hour,” opens up with one of these exaggerated, theatrical passages; “All mirrors lead to my palace/My exotic pleasure temple.” As silly as this is, though, the music on the rest of the album makes up for these faux pas, making for a piece of art that transcends metal subgenres in a way that only Cradle of Filth can. CODY THOMAS

Chris Krovatin is the author of the young-adult novels Heavy Metal & You and Venomous, as well as Revolvermag.com's “Final Six” blog. The latter book was the inspiration for Deadlocke, a one-shot published by Dark Horse Comics.

On Wednesday, I went to see Black Label Society, who played with Clutch, Children of Bodom, and 2Cents in New York. Here's what happened:

Number of Black Label Society back patches witnessed before entering venue: Six.

Number of said patches witnessed in venue lobby: Seven. Jesus Christ, it must be good to be in this band.

Crowd forecast: Burly and leathery, with patches of hairy and gale-force drunk warning in effect. Skanks have been sighted in many of the densely populated areas.

Hilarious sight: The one kid in spikes and eyeliner here to see Children of Bodom.

First band of the night: 2Cents.

Sounds like: Pantera.

Looks like: Pantera.

Specific Pantera look-alike: Lead singer Adam O’Rourke. Dude’s got an amazing Anselmo thing going, down to the shaved-except-for-one-long-patch hair.

Attendance: Already exceptional for a show like this. The crowd is at least four rows deep with solid bikers.

Number of children in attendance: Four.

Number of said children wearing BLS denim vests: Three.

Price of a child-size BLS denim vest at the merch table: $160.

Price of an average T-shirt at the merch table: $35. Are you kidding me? What happened to 20 dollars a shirt?

Next we have: Children of Bodom, from Finland.

Sounds like: Yngwie Malmsteen crashing his Cadillac into a truck full of Kreator in a crowded intersection. Twisted Sister calls the cops.

To be fair: If you’re reading this, you know what Children of Bodom sound like. This is Revolver, people.

Best track played: “Angels Don’t Kill.”

Number of fingers owned by Alexi Laiho: 47.

Actual biker club in attendance: Members of the N.Y. chapter of the Lost Souls.

Amount this reporter actually knows about biker culture: I’m catching up on Sons Of Anarchy now.

Cool reporter moment: Getting ushered backstage for a meet-and-greet with Clutch.

Amount of free space in Clutch’s dressing room: Two square inches.

Totally lame reporter moment: Spilling a beer on one of Clutch’s set lists.

Good to know: Press cred or not, I still fucking suck.

Next up: Clutch, from Maryland.

Sounds like: A bicep gets drunk and laid in New Orleans.

Last time I saw Clutch: They played a very jammy set, focusing more on their far-out dance elements. It was really chill but not what I was looking for.

This time: Every song is a pounding voodoo-infused muscle anthem.

Best track played: “Animal Farm” off of their self-titled album.

Utter shitshow of the night: The bar post-Clutch, pre-BLS. Who wants a beer? Everyone.

Worst drink special ever: Five bucks for a shot of…spiced rum?

Oh boy: Straight spiced rum! Who doesn’t like that? Everyone.

And finally: Black Label Society.

Sounds like: A collection of walk-on music for the meanest fucking wrestler in the world.

Where do Black Label Society sit in a movie theater: Wherever the fuck they feel like.

Licks: Tasty.

Chugs: Brutal.

Zakk Wylde’s daily diet: For breakfast, a hot stack of buttered denim vests. Lunch is a knuckle sandwich with extra vinger. And for dinner, it’s a big pile of whiskey-marinated chains. For desert, there’s a middle-finger mousse.

Amazing physical feat: The amount which BLS rock the fuck out at their shows. How can you keep thrashing around like that and not get totally bushed?

Favorite song of the evening: “What’s In You.”

Metal phrasology lesson: "SDMF" means "Strength, Determination, Muscles, Forever," and also "Society Dwelling Mother Fucker."

Touching moment: “In This River,” Zakk’s tribute song to the late and great Dimebag Darrel.

Best moment in the “In This River” video: After child versions of Zakk and Dime wander a forest wasteland and swim in a river, Zakk fucking destroys a piano with a hammer, in a river.

The honest truth: You only wish you could honor your dead boys that way.

Best post-concert moment: A woman’s "Happy birthday" song at the diner down the street being interrupted by a dude shouting, “BLACK LABEL SOCIETY!”

Hey, man: They never said you had to like ‘em.

Chris Krovatin is the author of the young-adult novels Heavy Metal & You and Venomous, as well as Revolvermag.com's “Final Six” blog. The latter book was the inspiration for Deadlocke, a one-shot published by Dark Horse Comics.

Last week, I went to see Nachtmystium, who played with Zoroaster, the Atlas Moth, and Dark Castle in Brooklyn, NY. Here’s what happened:

General state of the crowd at the Knitting Factory: Hairy.

General state of this reporter: Hungover, hairy.

Best hang-over cure: Psychedelic black metal, I guess?

Merch consistency: Groovy '70s-style block lettering. Guess these guys do drugs.

Coolest piece of merch available: The Atlas Moth back patches, featuring the phrase “Drop Acid, Not Bombs.”

First up: Dark Castle from Florida.

The skinny: A two-person band, featuring a female guitarist-vocalist and a drummer, that sounds like Bathory having a panic attack after smoking some high-potency grass.

Favorite fashion choice: Frontwoman Stevie Floyd’s shirt, a simple white sleeveless shirt with fake bloodstains running down the collar, like her throat’s been slit.

Best back patch of the show: The dude with the Impetigo patch. Solid.

The difference between a Brooklyn metalhead and a Manhattan metalhead: Brooklyn kids smell better. I know, it surprised me too, but if last month’s Exodus show proves anything…

Noteworthy venue detail: The bar actually has a number of decent beers on tap.

About the old Knitting Factory: If I remember correctly, they did not have a bunch of good beers on tap. If I remember correctly, they had PBR and Budweiser cans, shit like that.

Coming up second: The Atlas Moth of Chicago.

Noteworthy name bullshit: The band is named after a type of large saturniid moth named after the Greek titan Atlas due to its map-like wings.

Sounds like: The titan Atlas listening to Neurosis, then dropping the globe on his back as he’s eaten alive by a swarm of poisonous moths.

Worst thing about the Atlas Moth: They must not know that I’m brutally hungover, as their music makes my brain feel like it’s getting fucked with a hammer.

As such: They’re obviously doing their job.

Available tour poster: Mother Nature, lilly in hand, reels back from a line of blow while the Grim Reaper reaches around and cops a feel on one of her tits.

Drug use worth mentioning: Nachtmystium seem pretty down with promoting the yayo in a way that is often shunned by more extreme-metal bands. Maybe they think it’s too glam.

Drug use not worth mentioning: When I’ve done it, the yayo made me take epic forceful shits all night. I’ll stick to weed, thanks.

Door number three: Zoroaster from Atlanta.

Comprised of: Two big hairy dudes, a wild drummer, and a fourth guy on his knees manipulating a sound box to add that super-psychedelic flare.

The result: Crushing, riff-based stoner metal with throbbing pulse that makes you wonder if you might have a stroke if you stop banging your head.

Coolest band gear of the night: Zoroaster’s transparent orange drum kit. I shit you not, man.

And finally: Nachtmystium, from Chicago.

Sounds like: Master Of Reality–era Sabbath meets Sons of Northern Darkness–era Immortal, with a touch of Varg Vikernes thrown in for good measure.

Intense state of perspiration: Nachtmystium frontman Blake Judd sweating buckets from the moment he started playing.

Sudden thought: Maybe he’s as hungover as I am!

Favorite stage moves of the night: Nachtmystium just lining up, legs spread, and fucking thrashing out as they play. It’s simple, it’s old-fashioned, and it still looks fucking cool.

Song of the set: A tie between “Ghosts of Grace” and the indie-friendly mindfuck of “Nightfall.”

Holy shit: A mosh pit! Brooklyn kids starting a little black metal mosh pit! Ain’t it grand!

Actual hang-over cure: Going up to the front of the stage and pounding my fist against it while headbanging to “A Seed for Suffering.”

Look for: The band’s new video for “Every Last Drop,” directed by Revolver and Guitar World writer/photo dude Jimmy Hubbard.

In conclusion: What an awesome show, but Jesus Christ, I smell fucking awful.

However: B.O. ist krieg.

Chris Krovatin is the author of the young-adult novels Heavy Metal & You and Venomous, as well as Revolvermag.com's “Final Six” blog. The latter book was the inspiration for Deadlocke, a one-shot published by Dark Horse Comics. He thinks drinking Scotch followed by Duvel is a good idea.

On Thursday, I went to a night of underground metal headlined by Shrinebuilder (left) with support from Wolves in the Throne Room. Here’s what happened:

Price of 375 mL of McColl’s Scotch: $8.15

Price of my dignity: $8.15.

Price of a ticket for this NYU show: $2.00 for NYU students; $5.00 for us regular plebs.

Place is mobbed: A million and one metal hipsters are out tonight. It’s funny to be part of this crowd. There’s so much flannel.

Words to get used to if you want to be a metal journalist: “You’re not on the list.”

Check under Revolver: “Yeah, we get it. You’re not on here.”

Number of editors contacted: Two.

Number of fans who shook their heads in shame while this journalist tried to negotiate getting into this show: Three.

Look assholes: I just really want to see Wolves in the Throne Room. Eat a dick.

And so: I go to the Vol Du Nuit bar.

Beer of choice: Duvel.

Number consumed: Three.

Result: Holy shit.

Final summation: Guess we’re not getting in.

Kory, my Revolver editor, is calling: “Call Dave. He’ll get you in.”

Dave comes through: We’re into the show.

Oh, Jesus: Dealing with NYU security while drunk is not fun.

First band up when we get in: Wolves in the Throne Room.

Hurrah: They’re the only reason I’m here.

Sounds: Long-form ambient black metal.

Wolves in the Throne Room fun fact: The group contains two farmers from Seattle who make music that’s supposed to sound like being in the woods.

Immediate emotion: Holy shit, it’s like being in the woods.

Lame Wolves in the Throne Room announcement: “We see…we see a mosh pit here. It’s only happened twice before…if we could just close that.”

Hilarious concept: Moshing to Wolves In The Throne Room.

Favorite crowd banter: “PLAY SLOWER!!”

Merch discovery: No Wolves in the Throne Room patches.

Really, guys: Some of us with denim vests go to these shows.

Next up: Shrinebuilder.

Shrinebuilder fun fact: Shrinebuilder are a supergroup featuring members of Neurosis, Melvins, Sleep, Om, and, of course, Wino of the Obsessed and Saint Vitus fame.

You still got that McColl’s, man: Yo, pass it around. It is gross as Hell.

Sound: Huge, looming stoner metal with a baroque twist.

General state of audience: Headbanging.

General state of band: Head-wiggling.

Favorite thing about Wino: There’s this weird, über-confident way of stepping up to the mic that Wino has. It’s fierce and beautiful.

Jesus, listen to you: Welcome to Homoville. You are the King here.

Overall opinion of this show: Word. This was cool, NYU hosting this metal show. At least we know things like this can happen. I had an okay time.

Too bad you didn’t see Salome: These things happen.

Toppings on my post-show Crif Dog: Coleslaw, jalapeños, a bacon laticce, and chili (known as “The Spicy Redneck”).

Oh, Jesus: Farting like a machine.