This week, our spotlight is on Velzevul, a Far Eastern symphonic black metal project from Russia whose music carries an intensity and darkness rarely encountered even within the genre. Velzevul is not a band that simply performs; they construct entire sonic worlds, landscapes of despair and reflection that feel simultaneously ancient and immediate. Emerging from the desolate shores of the Japanese Sea, the project channels every trace of primordial fear and ancient evil into compositions that resemble a nuclear wasteland, streets littered with debris, broken glass, and overgrown with impassable thorny walls. It is music that envelops the listener in the ashes of human history, in the silence of cities whose breath has long since stopped, and in the cold reflections of what remains when civilizations collapse under their own hubris.

Cali has always carried an undercurrent of extremity in its metal veins, but Bestial Disgorgement represent a particular kind of defiance. Founded in 2013, the band began almost as a concept rather than a fully functioning act, with early years marked by hesitation and shifting lineups. The turning point came in 2016 when drummer Sergio Andrés and guitarist Christian David decided to stop orbiting around the idea of brutality and start channeling it directly. They invited Alejandro Sierra to handle vocals, and suddenly Bestial Disgorgement had both a voice and an ideological compass.

EthreuM is not just another extreme metal band, but a dark and cathartic journey that began in 2004 and has continued to evolve with time. From their early compositions fueled by visceral rage to the apocalyptic density of Final De Los Tiempos, their music embodies despair, critique, and transcendence. Every riff carries the tension between the earthly and the spiritual, as if their songs were gateways to a realm where the end is not destruction but revelation.

From the depths of Bogotá’s underground emerges Unified, a band that does not apologize for intensity or vision. Formed in 2024, they bring the uncompromising force of brutal and technical death metal to a scene hungry for authenticity. This is not music designed for casual listeners. Unified’s sound is a collision of precision and chaos, a relentless assault on the senses that leaves no space for compromise. Every riff, every blast beat, every guttural scream is part of a larger statement, a warning, and a catharsis all at once.

So, the other day I was digging through some corners of the Russian underground, because, let’s be honest, there’s always something gnarly hiding there.. and I stumbled upon Grenouer. Man, this band is like one of those long-running underground sitcoms you never knew existed but suddenly you’re hooked: they’ve been alive, kicking, and reshaping the scene for decades. It’s not just nostalgia bait either; this project has teeth, history, and a weirdly philosophical streak that makes it feel like the Russian underground is sending you postcards in guttural vocals. If you’re into raw energy, a bit of chaos, and a story that actually matters in extreme metal, Grenouer is one of those bands you really don’t want to sleep on. Grenouer emerged from Perm, Russia, in 1992, right at the moment when the Russian extreme underground was beginning to find its identity. In their earliest years, Grenouer embraced uncompromising death metal, releasing four full-length albums that earned them respect among the local scene and across the CIS. During the 90s, they were not just performers but also organizers, curating the now-legendary Death Panorama Festival, which became a gathering point for the Russian extreme underground. Bands like Mortem, Necrocannibal, End Zone, and Alkonost all shared the stage under Grenouer’s banner.

The other day I was digging around for something new to listen to. You know how it goes.. you scroll, you click, you sample a riff here and there. Out of nowhere, I landed on this band from New Hampshire called Supplication. I didn’t know what to expect, but what hit me was a sound that refuses to stay still. One second I was getting crushed by a slam-heavy breakdown, the next I was spun into grindcore chaos, and before I could catch my breath they were pulling technical riffs that bent everything sideways.

That’s when I knew this wasn’t just another underground act lost in the noise. Supplication has been at it since 2003, and you can feel that history in the way they play. It’s not polished for the masses, it’s not dressed up for radio, it’s raw, heavy, and completely their own.

Mortado’s very name comes from a hymn to filth and extremity. Borrowed from the legendary Impétigo and their track “Mortado,” it sets the tone for a band that has always embraced the rawest, ugliest aspects of death metal. From the beginning, the vision was clear: recreate that old, rotting sound of death metal with subtle injections of grindcore, and weave lyrics around death, gore, disease, mental disorders, and the darker corners of sociopolitical decay.

The first spark came in 2011 with Ultimate Punishment, a demo that outlined the sonic direction the band would carve for itself. Rough, savage, and dripping with intent, it announced Mortado as a presence in the Colombian underground. Two years later, Rancid and Corroded pushed their reach beyond their hometown, opening stages in Manizales and Bogotá. Mortado quickly proved they weren’t just another obscure act, but a unit intent on breaking through barriers.

Formed in Yekaterinburg in 2015, GVORN emerged as a project dedicated to crafting music that embodies true darkness, a sound at once oppressive, melodic, and atmospheric. Across a decade of evolution, the band has consistently balanced bleak heaviness with cinematic moods, drawing listeners into shadowy mental landscapes where grief, mortality, and despair intertwine.

In the heart of Chicago’s relentless metal scene, a band has been quietly sharpening its blades, waiting for the right moment to strike. That band is Rose of Demise. Formed in 2019, they’ve carved out a sound that’s as brutal as it is dynamic, blending the crushing weight of death metal, the pit-ready aggression of hardcore, and the precision breakdowns of metalcore, all laced with their own Midwest grit and sharpened by influences ranging from Miss May I, As Blood Runs Black, and As I Lay Dying, to August Burns Red, The Devil Wears Prada, Bullet for My Valentine, Lamb of God, and Slipknot.

Alright, death metal maniacs. If you’ve been starving for something that rips hard, gets technical without losing soul, and drips with pure unfiltered aggression, Hatred Inherit just delivered a slab of darkness that hits every nerve. Hatred Inherit is a death metal band hailing from Bottrop, Germany, formed in 2012. Rooted in the dark, aggressive tradition of the genre, they blend relentless old-school brutality with a modern technical edge that cuts deep. Their sound is forged in the fire of bands like Malevolent Creation, Morbid Angel, Dead Congregation, Hate, Immolation, Decapitated, Death, and Thy Art Is Murder. But make no mistake; these guys aren’t just followers, they’ve carved their own path through the chaos.

There’s a certain kind of death metal that doesn’t care for trends, doesn’t bow to production gloss, and doesn’t scream for your attention; because it knows it’s going to grab your throat anyway. That’s the kind of death metal Comatose plays. And for those who’ve been paying attention, this band has been circling like a vulture in the underground for over two decades.

Comatose was born in the July heat of 2003, not in some legendary European scene or North American hotbed, but in Cebu City, Philippines, a place more known for its beaches than blastbeats. It started humbly, as a student project inside a local university, where four young metalheads with a thirst for sonic destruction began channeling their influences into something raw, sinister, and unmistakably their own.

Some bands are discovered. Others possess you. Total Night Terror (TNT) isn’t just another extreme metal act from South America.. they are a sonic weapon forged in the flames of Cali, Colombia, and sharpened in the heart of the underground. With members who’ve spent over 15 years shaping the local punk and metal scene, TNT brings a feral intensity that refuses to be polished or tamed.

Their new album Terror Avernal isn’t just a follow-up. It’s an exorcism. If their 2023 EP Terror de la Noche was a wild burst of chaos, Avernal is a calculated descent into something much darker and much more dangerous. With raw riffs, ritualistic rhythms, and vocals straight from the abyss, this record shows the band not just evolving, but fully embracing their own sound: RAW METAL.

If you're into bands like Hellhammer, Aura Noir, or Sarcófago, or if you just miss that feeling of finding something truly underground, this is for you. We broke down their story, dissected the new album, and picked our favorite track. Read the full feature now .. You’ve been warned.

Twenty years deep in the Croatian underground, Defiant have evolved from melodic death hopefuls to fully unhinged black/death conjurers. With every release, they’ve carved their identity sharper, darker and more unapologetically savage. From the embryonic chaos of The End of Beginning to the ritualistic precision of Mammon Mantra, this is a band that’s never settled, always sharpened.

Their latest release, Mammon Mantra, is more than an album, it’s a damn reckoning. Featuring guest appearances by Tony “Demolition Man” Dolan (Venom Inc.) and Maksymina Kuzianik, it’s their most conceptual and ferocious work to date. But how did they get here? And which record still gives that neck-snap reaction years later?

Join us as we walk album by album through Defiant’s discography, pint in hand, horns up, dissecting the riffs, growls and scars that shaped one of the Balkans’ most relentless metal acts. Listening is just the first step. Are you ready to understand what this band truly stands for, what they represent, and everything they’ve endured to get here?

I knew this night was going to be unforgettable. But I didn’t expect it to tear me open and stitch me back together all at once. From the moment the first riff ripped through the speakers, something shifted inside me. It wasn’t just the volume, the lights, the spectacle, it was the weight of everything this music has ever meant to me. Every scream, every solo, every drop-tuned note felt like a rite. By the time the final, fading feedback rang out into the dark, I realized this wasn’t a concert. It was a pilgrimage. A sacred return to the altar of sound where we go to remember who we are and why we never let go.

CHAQUEN started back in 1998, deep in the hills of Chía, Colombia. What sets them apart is their connection to the ancient Muisca culture (Yes, I said muisca) Miguel Orjuela, the band’s founder, didn’t just want to play metal. He wanted to channel something ancestral, something spiritual, through heavy, raw music that hits harder than just riffs and keep the roots while doing it so.

Their first demo, El Llanto de las Piedras, released in 2000, made waves locally and even crossed borders, reaching fans in Central America, the US, and Europe. After a brief pause, Miguel revived the band in 2003, setting a course for something bigger.

By 2011, CHAQUEN had teamed up with Sweden’s Demorian and released Elemental, an album that sharpened their sound without losing the ritualistic spirit. They marked their 15th anniversary with a special box set release, proving their commitment to fans who follow the band beyond the music.

Their 2015 EP Un Lugar Para Morir pushed experimental boundaries, while Sacrum Mortualia in 2017 delivered a cold, ’90s-inspired black metal sound, earning them tours in Uruguay and Argentina alongside heavyweights like Inquisition.

When the pandemic hit, they stripped down to a power trio, embracing old-school death metal’s raw intensity, streaming live shows and keeping their underground presence alive.

Now, in 2025, they’ve released Lamentos del Pasado, a new compilation gathering their journey’s darkest and most powerful moments. CHAQUEN has earned their place on stages and press from Colombia to Europe — a band not just surviving but thriving through decades of underground dedication.

Somewhere in the mist-wrapped valleys of western Colombia, between the pulse of Valle del Cauca and the stillness of Armenia, a sound is rising that doesn’t belong to the mainstream, and never wanted to. It belongs to the underground. To long rehearsal nights. To hands calloused from years of persistence. To metal that thinks, breathes, and breaks through walls. That sound is called Nero.

Nero is not just a band. It’s a process. A vision. A dialogue between inner chaos and external order, spoken in the language of distorted guitars, syncopated rhythms, and philosophical reflection. Built far from Colombia’s cultural epicenters, their journey has been slower, harder, and all the more meaningful. The music wasn’t built for attention. It was built for truth.

Their name, Greek for “water”, says it all. Fluid, essential, sometimes gentle, often destructive. Their compositions move like liquid through time signatures and textures, reflecting a profound creative chemistry among five musicians who bring years of experience and soul to every track. You can hear influences like Opeth, Soen, Paradise Lost, Death, and Tool, but what you really hear is Nero itself: ambitious, atmospheric, heavy without compromise.

And now, something is shifting. With the recent release of their single Capti Inter Larvis, a track that explores identity, perception, and the weight of masks we wear, Nero signals a new phase. The arrival of Isabel Ossana on vocals has brought a new emotional and sonic depth to the project. Her voice doesn’t just scream—it shapes, reflects, interrogates. It moves between power and precision, bringing Nero’s lyrical world into sharp focus.

The story begins here. Read the full blog.

One of the bands from Cali that immediately caught my attention is now officially nominated as The Artist of the Week, and trust me, they’ve earned it. Some bands don’t need an intro, they just need a volume knob and your full attention. T.H.O.R isn’t about trends or cheap aggression. They’re something deeper. Born in the heavy, chaotic heart of Cali, Colombia, this band has been grinding through the underground for over two decades with a sound that bleeds purpose. Their music isn’t polished. It’s sharpened. It doesn’t entertain — it confronts. This isn’t the kind of band you stumble upon. It’s the kind of band that finds you when you’re ready to feel something real.

This feature isn’t just a look at their discography or a timeline of shows. It’s a descent, into sound, into message, into what happens when pain turns to fire and riffs turn to ritual. Whether you’re a longtime fan or you’ve never heard of them before, this might be the most alive metal you’ve heard in a while.

No spoilers here. Just know: if you’ve ever needed music that hits harder than just distortion… T.H.O.R is the storm you didn’t see coming.

There’s a certain kind of heaviness that doesn’t just slam your body — it reaches into memory. It hits the part of you that stood outside small venues in the cold, hoodie soaked in sweat, waiting for that one riff to drop. It takes you back to the pits that split open like rituals, to burned CD-Rs with Sharpie tracklists, to broken-down MySpace profiles playing the soundtrack of our youth on autoplay.

That’s the feeling I got when I heard Beheading the Icon for the first time. Not just a band — a portal.

Hailing from South Chicago, BTI isn't just influenced by the MySpace-era deathcore sound — they come from it. But this isn’t some nostalgia act, trying to mimic the past. This is something leaner, meaner, smarter. It's the same rage we remember, now grown up, sharpened, and aimed with purpose. With every release, they walk a tightrope between unfiltered chaos and thoughtful brutality — like if As Blood Runs Black and The Black Dahlia Murder had a child raised on basement shows.

From their early self-titled EP — rough, raw, honest — to their 2024 offering VITRIOL, you hear the evolution. And you feel it. This is a band that remembers the war — and still chooses to fight it. Their sound is a storm of blast beats, gutturals, and riffs that stab rather than slice. Their lyrics go deeper than anger — touching on addiction, corruption, cosmic dread, and personal hauntings that feel mythic and intimate at the same time.

What makes Beheading the Icon feel different is that they’re not chasing a scene — they’re restoring one. They come from the roots, and yet everything about them feels forward-thinking. Their singles show it best — tracks like “Pay to Pray” and “Las Moscas” aren’t just heavy — they’re intentional. You don’t just mosh to these songs. You think about them later. You feel them when you’re alone. This is music for people who understand that brutality and meaning aren’t enemies — they’re soulmates. And that is why we’re proud to name Beheading the Icon our Artist of the Week.

This time let´s talk about PACTO is a melodic black metal band born in Bogotá, Colombia, in 2007. Founded by brothers John Sabogal (guitar) and Manuel Sabogal (keyboards), PACTO began as an instrumental project—just two minds creating mystical soundscapes. But over time, it evolved into something much deeper: a band with a message, a sound, and a vision. Their music blends melodic black metal with doom-laced atmospheres and even elements of IDM, giving each album its own unique identity.

Lyrically, PACTO doesn’t hold back. Their songs dive into the harsh realities of the modern world—religious and political dogma, environmental collapse, psychological torment, and the erosion of humanity in the face of greed and fear. It’s raw, it’s poetic, and it hits where it hurts.

The band’s evolution can be felt across their three albums. El Reino de los Hechiceros (2014) was a mystical, lo-fi beginning. Sagrada Victoria (2017) brought sharper production and a more aggressive message. Then Lamento de Gaia (2024) elevated everything—emotional depth, vocal dynamics, and sonic power. It’s a concept album forged during the pandemic, where even the limitations of isolation couldn’t stop the vision.

With Giovani Cantor on lead vocals and Lennys Garzón adding a haunting melodic contrast, PACTO has found its full voice. Together, they create music that moves between blast beats and melancholic ambiance—taking the listener on a journey through sound, sorrow, and rebellion.

So I’ve been on a bit of a Luciferian kick lately — and honestly, I think you’d vibe with them more than you expect. They’re a black metal band from Armenia, Colombia, been around since 1996, and there’s just… something about their sound that hits on another level. It’s heavy, yeah — but not just “loud for the sake of it.” It’s spiritual, intense, and kind of hypnotic. Feels like they’re pulling their music from some ancient, buried current And somehow, they turn all that weight, all that energy, into fire.

They started during a time when Colombia was in serious political and social chaos — guerrilla warfare, cartels, corruption, all of it. And instead of backing down, Héctor Carmona (the founder and frontman) basically said “nope” and formed a band that would channel all that rage and spiritual resistance into black metal. That origin? You can feel it in everything they do. Their music doesn’t sound “inspired by darkness” — it sounds like it survived it.

And lyrically? Yeah, there’s satanic imagery, but not in a cheesy or empty way. It's more symbolic — about rebellion, inner power, questioning dogma, and facing everything people are taught to fear. It’s not about “evil,” it’s about freedom. About turning chaos into clarity. And they do it without being preachy or theatrical — it’s more like a liturgy than a performance.

They’ve done five South American tours, shared stages with Behemoth, Mayhem, Marduk, and even played in Norway at Trondheim Metal Fest. They were part of the Blackhearts documentary too — one of the few bands outside Europe to be featured. And right now? They’re recording a new album. So, kind of the perfect time to dive in.

Anyway — if you ever want music that’s raw but meaningful, dark but full of purpose, Luciferian is it. Just don’t play it passively. Turn it up, let it hit, and maybe light a candle and do a ritual or something. You’ll see what I mean.