Tom Valcanis

20 April 2026

The Six Stacker: Drinked In

Tom Valcanis

20 April 2026

There’s a line in one of the discs - the brilliant Magic 8-Ball by genre defiers Gazpacho - “how do you tell your creditors you’ve never been so poor? / eerily familiar as he’s knocking at your door” It’s been a dismal three months for me - the worst since I started on my own since 2014. I am buoyed by the support of my network, loved ones, friends - but there’s a weight of melancholy knowing I can’t really do much without the numbers in my bank account. Things are looking up - but salad days still suck. Here’s what I’ve been spinning:

Sabaton - Legends

I remember first hearing of and seeing Sabaton open for Nightwish - I was about to leave these shiny metal breastplated geeks for dust until singer Joakim Broden announced they were a “military history power metal band” and I was hooked. Naturally, they blew their fantastic Finn headliners away (with newly implanted Floor Jansen at the helm.) I hate to say it, but it seems like they reached the height of conquest with 2012’s (!!!) Carolus Rex, with diminishing returns ever since. Legends hits a qualitative nadir, songs plodding along without life or purpose. Templars tepid call and return is underpinned by Broden and co. mumuring along and propped up by mass choirs. That’s probably the best of the lot; at least the most memorable. The bulk of the album feels like recycled filler, like throwing in a mountain’s worth of packing peanuts to surround one or two precious tracks. I think, like so many of their Legends before them, need to re-group, re-arm, and re-deploy. They just seem spent at this point.

Helloween - GIANTS & Monsters

Helloween reforming as “Pumpkins United” is the best decision a band in metal has made since Judas Priest recorded British Steel at Ringo Starr’s mansion. It’s a genuine second renaissance for the band. As dumb as this sounds, Helloween sounds more Halloween than ever, almost forty years removed from the Keepers of the Seven Keys albums - opener Giants on the Run a multi-movement symphony featuring hard-edged blues riffs from Michael Weikath, neo-classicalisms supplied by Kai Hansen (also on vocals), wrapped up with gang choruses lifted from Gamma Ray’s time in the sun. I mean, wasn’t that the point of Gamma Ray to begin with?

Savior of the World is an uptempo Kiske vehicle, sounds like a lost cut between Keepers and Pink Bubbles Go Ape and just as fantastically silly. Happy happy Helloween manifests in A Little is a Little Too Much, their stupidest yet earwormiest song since From Where the Rain Grows, brimming with jaunty power-pop tempered by unexpected pathos in verses. If only Kiske joined Andi Deris from year dot - it’s absolutely delightful. So is hard rocker This is Tokyo, sprawling with expansive, triumphant choruses that could fill Budokan twice over. You do get absolute speed metal headbangers such as Universe (Gravity for Hearts) and oblique, swaying hands Andi Deris-led semi-ballads (Hand of God) as well as epic, multi-part Kai Hansen opuses (Majestic), and Kiske emulating Andrew Lloyd Webber numbers in the fists-clutched-to-chest weepie Into the Sun.

As an album, it effortlessly balances guitar flashiness, vocal leads, and narrative tone. I’m not sure if this bests their 2021 self-titled outing, but it equals it at the very least. Helloween is more Helloween than ever, as dumb as that sounds.

Gazpacho - Magic 8-Ball

There are few bands like Gazpacho - tender yet searing, icy yet comforting, dark yet playful. My first album was 2014’s Demon, which was my firm favourite (and I’ve picked up almost all of their output since.) Magic 8-Ball might be the one that pips it at the post. Starling gathers pace among beds of plucked violins and mournful, soul-rending laments, broken down like welled tears after tragedy (Told her to wait by our memories / Find a nice spot by the pool of the violent words) - by that point, you’re all fucked up and that’s only nine minutes in. We Are Strangers hook is its to-the-point chorus, cradled by flights of vocoder and syncopated slam-style poetry. Again, two tracks in and it’s latched on and won’t let go. Gingerbread Men is that moody blue prog rock epic, hewn from the textures of earth and sky - sounds that’ll make you perk up and wonder “just what is that?”. Highlight is the harlequinnish 8-Ball, recalling all the childlike wonder of circuses and funfairs yet grounded by the darker shades of the human condition, tumbling piano and beating thrusts of sceptres ameliorating any lingering bitterness. These guys really are something else. For a prog rock band they spare the rock and lean heavy on the art, but then again; who cares. Something this resplendent doesn’t come along every day.

An Abstract Illusion - The Sleeping City

Fear not the purple city vagina, for it fears your presence more. Sweden’s An Abstract Illusion feels more like an epic multi-movement symphony than a mere album at times. This genre-hopping, grandiose, ambitious metal needs a new genre unto itself (send your cheques to me, PR fluffers!) - Wilderun, Amiensus, Fires in the Distance - bands like these that flood the soundscape and our ears with kaleidoscopic palettes of melody and rhythm. Blackmurmur fills a yawning chasm between contemporary synthwave and extreme metal with alplomb, throbbing sawtooths startling through waves of Devin Townsend-style choruses and gauzed up riffs. It’s prog, if prog was progressive and not just recycling Dream Theater all day long. The long gaze into Silverfields is pure Roger Waters/Pink Floyd worship, even though it’s three minutes of lilted guitar and cycling synth arpeggios. Perfect nonetheless. No Dreams Beyond Empty Horizons feels like some of the most inspired soloing in decades, buttressed by unconquerable double kicks and headbanger chops. How they balanced wonder and brutality will leave you forever spellbound. If you’re into doomscrolling and complaining, then this album isn’t for you. You simply don’t have the attention span for it. Shame. An absolute 10/10.

Kalaveraztekah - Nikan Axkan

We got yer viking metal, yer Mongolian hun metal, yer Roman Empire metal (and Byzantine metal), even yer Imperial Germanic Reich metal, but may we introduce… Aztec metal? It not only exists but will kick your ever loving arse. If Cortes heard this landing in Mexico, he would have shit his britches and fucked back off to Spain. A flamenco intro is stabbed through with an HM-2 pedal stomp for opener Nikan Axkan, carried on a ziggurat sized riff and haunted by the souls of a million slain warriors. Much of their rollicking, mosh catching riffery is cut through with traditional Aztec instrumentation such as pan flutes, hand drums, and whistles, making for a truly otherwordly experience (Tonalli Nawalli). The chants of the ancients rise and heave through bulky riffs and what sounds like a digeridoo (Yowaltekuhtli) which will satisfy both Sepultura and Slayer fans alike. It seems like a straightforward thrash-death record on first blush - Tlazolteotl (La Devoradora De Inmundicia) is testament to its crossover appeal - but as we settle in, it feels like rushing through a portal to the realm of the Aztec dead. Superb.

In Mourning - The Immortal

Sweden’s In Mourning are a band out of time, arriving just as the final flame of melodeath flickered out of the global scene (2010.) One of the now stalwart practitioners of the craft, The Immortal takes more cues from Rapture or Insomnium than the OGs of the genre (In Flames, At The Gates, Dark Tranquillity etc.) Silver Crescent is driven by liquid solos and lamenting choruses, enforcing a primacy of lead-infused riffs washed in gothic black. Barnstormers are present (Staghorn) as are progressive-tinged tracks (Song of the Cranes) replete with towering melodies and quieter acoustic reflections. We also get songs that just seem to build and build to dizzying heights (As Long as the Twilight Stays). They can even do clean-sung Katatonia style introversion (North Star), perhaps better than the originator at this point. Their songwriting powers combine in closerThe Hounding, a knotty yet satisfying end to yet another stellar album from the boys. None of this shouldn’t be a surprise to me having followed them since their beginning, but they just do melodeath a solid with every release. As a melodeath fanatic, I can’t recommend them enough.

Tom Valcanis

4 December 2025

Blog

The Six Stacker: Tears In Rain

Tom Valcanis

4 December 2025

Blog

It happened… again. I bought an album I already owned without even checking. I saw Opeth at the Palais Theatre (sat down and all) and couldn’t believe I didn’t own their darker half of their double record Deliverance (the other bit being the portent of things to come, Damnation.) Turns out I did. Great gig, though. It’s December now and I’m still grumbling about the cold. What the hell? If I paid more attention in Earth Science classes, I’d probably know why. (Hint: It’s La Nina)

Whom Gods Destroy - Insanium

I love this band. I love this band despite how relentlessly American they are. Odd time signatures? Check. Raspy Jørn Lande knockoff on vocals? Check. ex-Dream Theater keyboardist? (Derek Sherinian, natch.) Check. Asian bass player? Check. I haven’t kept up with Dream Theater for yonks. A part of me feels bad, but a larger part of me doesn’t give a shit. This has been lodged in my six stacker for so long, it may have formed a symbiotic relationship with it. Opener In The Name of War is crushingly heavy if you still think Painkiller is the apex predator of heaviness. This is no criticism; metalheads rejoiced when DT released Train of Thought, their semi-demi-thrash album all the way back in ‘03. You get Hammond organ drenched barnstormers (Over Again), European style rock ballads (The Decision, Find My Way Back) and classic, fist-pumping bluesy Dad rock jams (Keeper of the Gate). Prog fans of a certain vintage - there’s nothing you won’t love here.

Officium Triste - Hortus VeneNum

I was scolded… perhaps pilloried… maybe lambasted by a underling during my iron fist-like command overHysteria Mag for suggesting the Peaceville Three (My Dying Bride, Paradise Lost, and Anathema) was ever a thing. I overruled him, so it is. As for Dutch depressos Officium Triste, Hortus Venenum is like stepping in a time machine to 1996 and flipping switches in the Cavanaugh brothers’ brains to make another run in the Eternity or Judgement sound. (They’ve been around since before then, believe it or not.) It’s death-doom in that Anathem-ic vein, undiluted by space rock or prog rock. They even crib their reedy e-Bow theatrics on a weighty eight-minute Walk in Shadows, and weeping whirlwinds of chugging woe on My Poison Garden, which passes resemblance to contemporary MDB. Pensive piano-driven closer Angels with Broken Wings… well, you get the picture. It’s a paean to the Anathema that never was, only real.

Ihsahn - Ihsahn

I still contend that OG black metal shrieker Ihsahn (Emperor, Peccatum, et. al.) writes music for Bond villains as if they were the heroes of the piece: elegant, sophisticated, masculine; with a streak of insanity run through it. A lot of this self titled record is symphonic black metal in the “anything goes” philosophy of Arcturus; blast beats meets belts of bassoon head on in Pilgrimage to Oblivion, for example. He doesn’t really ease off the gas all that much until A Taste of Ambrosia, an slipping into darkness instead of bat-out-of-helling it like the previous tracks. The Distance Between Us infused with his brooding cleans could be mistaken for a Katatonia cut, which isn’t altogether a bad thing. Best vocal performance on the album goes to the nine-minute slow builder At the Heart of All Things Broken, a multifaceted symphony that could (and does) rival the metal epic greats: Ghost Love Score, Hallowed Be Thy Name, etc. Ihsahn’s ambition matches his talent, which is all we as listeners can hope for.

Mother of Graves - The Periapt of Absence

Yes, I too had to look up what periapt meant (it means amulet.) For the uninitiated, death-doom died around the turn of the century; though there’s so many bands “bringing it back” I’m beginning to think it never really went away. Indianapoles (is that a thing?) Mother of Graves drape themselves in mourning and woe (like any death-doom cultist should) by way of death n’ roll in Sweden - if Dan Swanö (Edge of Sanity, Witherscape) or L.G. Petrov (RIP; Entombed) prodded their respective bands to really really get into My Dying Bride. Case and point being the double-time asskicker Shatter the Visage, which may or may not be a lost Purgatory Afterglow cut. That knotty and complicated riffing Swanö pioneered is alive and well here; even his clipped rapid fire vocal delivery (A Scarlet Threnody, Upon Burdened Hands). It’s walks to the precipice of extremity, looks down, laughs, yet never ever jumps off; which is a good thing because some of these tracks could easily overstay their welcome. Excellent in almost every regard.

Wytch Hazel - V: Lamentations

Crusaders in the name of our Lord (Jesus, not Dio) Wytch Hazel are BACK with their fifth proto-NWBOHM record and it’s… well, the Wytch Hazel we all know and cherish. Overdriven twin leads, throbbing riffs, huge nourishing harmonies, and sounding if it was recorded off Lake Montreaux in a Rolling Stones Mobile Studio while a razed hotel smoulders behind them. Thanks for nothing, Mothers of Invention. All their records are largely filler-free (if you want to be a child of God then all art praising him must be worthy of him, right?) and this one lives up to its title. The Demon Within isn’t all happy clapping; it’s introspective and downcast, an expression of a struggle with faith. 70s pagan (!!!) folk creeps into the Wishbone Ash (who else) cribbed The Citadel, darker territory still. Though we get a glimpse of that light and love on a cheery ender Elements - despite a confessional, sombre middle-8 - because not doing so would be far too removed from their mission. Another belter from a band who seemingly can’t put a note wrong.

Wormed - Omegon

Death metal? What about Clankerfied death metal? Well, Fear Factory kinda cornered the market on that like 30 (!!!) years ago. Omegon is a concept record “a cosmic substance defying mortal grasp. Amidst ancient conflict, civilizations vie for its boundless power, blurring reality's lines. From shadows emerges Krighsu, a timeline hacker entangled in manipulation by cosmic forces. Amidst surreal realms, he battles to unlock Omegon's mysteries.” Ha! Nerds. This is tech death rooted firmly at the lower end of the register, hollowbody blast beats the order of the day such is the tangled opener Automaton Virtulague (what the fuck) and the brutality doesn’t shift recalling Gorguts or Cattle Decaptitation, especially in the ever-shifting Pleoverse Omninertia (I am not writing these out again) Unfortunately for my tired fingers the most tech death of them all is Aetheric Transdimensionalization (fuck my giddy aunt) which defies Euclidian space… well it seems like it. Look at those clankers on the record cover. Now insert your USB into its Love.exe!

Tom Valcanis

27 August 2025

Blog

The Six Stacker: In Your Mind

Tom Valcanis

27 August 2025

Blog

It’s still cold and I’m crammed to the eyeballs in work. I swear when I get my ducks in a row, one duck takes a good long notice only to tell me to go to hell. These discs preserved my sanity when it wore thin, especially the first one…

MYRATH - Karma

Even the most cynical power metalhead will have to concede these albums as watersheds in the genre: Keepers of the Seven Keys. Blind Guardian’s Nightfall in Middle-Earth. Hammerfall’s Legacy of Kings. Probably. Kamelot’s The Black Halo. Maybe. Tunisia’s Myrath make the case for Karma as another watershed in this oft-derided genre (mostly by me.) As opening castenets echo around opener To the Stars, their barnstorming ‘blazing desert metal’ would win over any crowd, any where as openers for pretty much anyone. Singer Zaher Zorgati is that perfect rough-hewn blend of a soaring Russell Allen (Symphony X) and stadium-commanding rasp of Jørn Lande (Jørn, ex-Masterplan, et. al.), gliding in as bombastic horns rattle the earth in second showstopper Into the Light. Speaking of, they even out Masterplan Masterplan in closer Carry On, replete with sadboi chorus and lightning-quick fretwork.

Yes, there’s a lot of Arabic/North African pop melody here, but god damn it you cannot tell me it doesn’t work. A New Jack swing infecting Candles Cry will latch on to your brain-stem in under a Mos Eisley minute. Likewise the track Disney wished they had on the Aladdin soundtrack, Let it Go. So much of it is 12-point Eurovision fodder but that’s the beauty of this entire record. Each track feels alive with new ideas and motifs, sounding foreign yet familiar, rousing yet grounded. If you haven’t heard this record, you should. Like, right now.

Blood Incantation - Absolute Elsewhere

The much feted Denver, Coloradans ask the question “what if those hippie stoners your dad told you to steer clear from were also death metal” and answer it in mind-alteringly trippy fashion on Absolute Elsewhere. I know scribes have written hard-drives worth of “IT’S PINK FLOYD MIXED WITH DEATH METAL OMG” and they’re right. It’s also Rush, Camel, King Crimson, and a whole bunch of other obscure prog shit I don’t know about and will likely never ever come across, ever. Though compared to some of their psychedelic bretheren such as Sigh for example, it feels a bit safe. You don’t have to smear blood across your face and direct sonic weapons at your audience to get your point across, no. Though for all the writers in a lather about how cutting-edge and groundbreaking this feels, it just doesn’t. It’s great, contrasting and deftly played progressive rock and death metal. One guy sat it next to Sigh and Gorguts, saying it was “ a towering achievement which exceeds all expectations.” Yeah, maybe? It’s good. It’s really good. Best album of last year good. But I don’t think it’s Pet Sounds.

Forgotten Tomb - Nightfloating

Let’s say Jonas Renkse in the late 90s visted his government-subsidsed Swedish throat doctor and he (HE???) said there was nothing wrong with his pipes and could growl from Monday until Fredagmsys and beyond. I think that version of Katatonia would resemble Forgotten Tomb. Hailing from Italy (really?) Forgotten Tomb play a forlorn, down-tuned death metal that seemingly died out after the release of Discouraged Ones. A Chill You Can’t Taint’s icy arpeggios recall ye olde Peaceville-era Katatonia, though those delirious wandering passages give way to to some rather extraverted face-melters. Though there’s only six tracks on here, they feel like a whole lot more; a depth and diversity most straight up death metal bands wouldn’t dare touch. (c.f Drifting, the weird synth funeral dirge that sounds like a My Dying Bride offcut) It’s a death metal crew displaying their love for shoegaze and post-punk underneath about fifteen overlapped Cannibal Corpse and Malevolent Creation patches. It’s an Sliding Doors-style experience, for sure.

Amiensus - Reclamation Parts I and II

This, along with Myrath got a solid run in my Six Stacker of late. It also becomes apparent how the two intertwine with one another - the first disc being about life and death and the second a departure into an afterlife, or altered consciousness. Just a joy to listen to every time.

Progressive black metal (if that’s what we’re calling it) over these two ambitious discs is for want of a better word, beautiful. Yeah, it’s brutal as fuck at times but Reclamation Parts I and II (which should be taken as a whole) feels vibrant, resplendent, triumphant. Just like Wilderun or Disillusion before them, it’s a grand opus that takes in the wondrous spectrum of human emotion while retaining an overwhelming joy. It’s a joy evoked by the simple pleasure of listening to these sounds, as a haze between one’s internal world and the external settles in. A crowning achievement in the genre as it spans so many - folk, neo-classical, thrash, prog - because it will leave you in pure awe.

Kanonenfieber - Die Urkatastrophe

Here’s a new one for ya pally: death metal all about the Kaiserreich’s failed campaign in the First World War… in German. On my first listen, I couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. It felt like Amon Amarth in German with bits of Bolt Thrower mixed in. Sturmtrupp sure feels like Versus the World and Nordic windmilling n’ cosplay to me, at least on casual listen. (Gegen die Welt?) Main man Noise captures the relentless churn of trench warfare in tracks such as Waffenbrüder, opening like still dawn over a bloodsoaked battlefield before the whistle blows to initiate mindless, industrial-strength slaughter in the pursuit of mere inches of territory. There is some pummeling thrash in highlight Gott mit der Kavallerie and blunt force hulka-riffage in a Char 2C sized Panzerhenker. Anthemic yet defeated in Ausblutungsschlacht, guitars crawling across barren landscapes and punctuated with speeches by Imperial Germans, it’s a feast for the ears and the imagination. The closest we’ll ever get to the Great War are grainy photos, gut-wrenching poetry, or perhaps the comfort of a respawn in Battlefield 1. Kanonenfieber take on a grim subject and capture it with fire and intensity few other bands dream to match.