Miserere Luminis – Sidera (Debemur Morti, Mar 6)
Emerging from the ashes of Gris, Quebecois legends Icare and Neptune revived Miserere Luminis in 2023 with Ordalie, a record that proved the trio (the third is Annatar of Sombres Forêts) was much more than a mere side project. But this is their first true masterpiece, a triumphant showcase of technicality, songwriting, and emotion. For me, it’s usually less as more when it comes to black metal, but all of Sidera’s many layers are balanced in such a way that it avoids the common trappings: it’s cathartic but not histrionic, progressive but not indulgent. The pained howls spin scripture of existential woe, the sparing strings add aching harmonies, and the grooves lead upward into sublime oblivion.
Negation – 2022_Q3 & 2022_Q4 (WAY, Mar 7)
Though he’s been active for more than a decade at this point, you could fit all of Negation’s discography on a single CD with room to spare. Project mastermind Kieran Morris exhaustively sculpts and tweaks his sound experiments into laser-focused documents, as evidenced by concise releases like Solar Torque and 1988 Mitsubishi Montero Sport. The utilitarian materialism of 2022_Q3 & 2022_Q4‘s title extends to its contents, an assimilation of audio surplus generated by a bout of tedious desk labor and such prestigious programs as Microsoft Teams. Listening with speakers is a must; this is the NY phenom’s most complex and spatial work so far, exploding with dizzying technicality and building tension with well-placed downtime.
Ruda Vera – Suc de Rocs (sedicions, March)
One of a pair of new cassette releases on Catalonian hermit Ruda Vera’s own sedicions imprint, Suc de Rocs is a welcome reminder of what makes his art so special. In contrast to the short sketches of Anthimeria, this single-sided C90 collects lengthy meditations that are as humble and inscrutable as ever. Even more so than previous releases, it’s never quite clear where the sound sources end and the rattle and slur of the artist’s shambolic tape machines begin. Everything blends together in a single stream of dirt, glass, and ferric oxide. Ruda Vera’s music aligns with his collage work (see some examples in his new interview in Untitled) in how both fixate on singular masses of textures: the mash of motion in an everyday action, the crusty cacophony of closely recorded junk.
Jack Sheen performed by Apartment House – Press (The Trilogy Tapes, Jan 22)
If you’re at all familiar with my taste you know I’m not much of a classical head. There’s a certain kind of humanity I have to hear in music for it to resonate with me, and I don’t usually find it in formal composition. Jack Sheen’s work is one of a few notable exceptions. Press expands the haunting harmonics and elliptical arpeggios he explored with Solo for Cello to a quintet, with prolific British ensemble Apartment House embracing the unusual tunings and metal mutes required for this ambitious score. It’s spellbinding music, a diaphanous spiderweb that trembles on the edge of the abyss, faint grey light glinting on the dewy strands.
Nu No – Canto Ventríloquo (La République des Granges, May 15)
As I wrote in my review, Canto Ventríloquo reminded me to catch up on everything Nu No (Nuno Marques Pinto) has released since 2019’s Turva Lingua, so it gets props just for that. It’s also a testament to the quality of the tape that it stands out as a new high point for the Portuguese polymath even against such a consistent catalog. Each listen through is like opening an old grimy treasure chest, the contents of which you think you already know, only to be surprised every time. I’ve found myself growing to appreciate the more reserved cantos, wherein Pinto restricts himself to either only voice (“IX”) or no voice at all (“VII”)—the latter of which is an inflection point to close the A side, the winding tension like vocal cords priming for the next utterance.
Slacking – Curling Pupils of Sleep ’Neath Bended Moon (Fusty, May 27)
For those who have heard any of Jim Lerario’s recent material as Slacking—especially those who have witnessed it live—it comes as no surprise that Curling Pupils of Sleep ‘Neath Bended Moon is already sold out. The Pittsburgh wizard has steadily and mercilessly improved since his very first tape in 2019, and this first LP outing is the culmination of all of it. Magnetic tape is Lerario’s paintbrush, and on Sacred Heart of Reinvention and “Do What Thou Droop” from his split with Black Corolla he coated canvases with vivid nightmare hues. There’s a newfound fluidity on Curling Pupils, though. The shifting, slithering noise is as psychedelic as ever, but it’s also cathartic, even ecstatic at points (hear “Mean Bone”, which channels Dilloway’s “Eight Cut Scars”).
Lucy Bedroque – B4C (self-released, May 10)
To tide fans over until the promised but as-yet-unheard follow-up to last year’s Unmusique, C, extremely online MC and producer Lucy Bedroque (Jeremiah Mark) dropped the aptly titled B4C in May. A thrown-together collection of seven tracks, some of which may or may not be on the album, the EP has all the markings of a forgettable bonus release—that is, until it starts playing, and the magic makes itself known. “006 Finessaa” and “C Section” are some of Mark’s best songs yet, rawer and rougher takes on the young artist’s candy-coated approach to rage that capture their infectious live presence. I’m generally not huge on prettifun but his two features fit well here. There are some missteps, likely due to a rushed rollout (what the hell is that kick on “Bowser”), but the imperfections make it all the more perfect. Endlessly replayable.
Temple Guard – Citadel in Flames (worldwide, Jun 11)
Citadel in Flames snuck up on me. Lured by the killer cover art, I told myself I’d heard this same sound done to death and that Temple Guard wouldn’t make any more of a lasting impression than the countless other new heavy hardcore bands I’ve heard recently. But then “Blood Makes the Rain Fall” kicked in, and it slowly became clear that this five-piece stands apart from the horde. The bellowed lyrics range from doomsday resignation to militant eco-radicalism, sharpened with martial medieval imagery befitting of the visual aesthetic. The fury ramps to apocalyptic fervor with “The Weight of Undying Shame”, a crushing siege engine of a track fortified with the most evil breakdown of the year.
Noise Not Music 