Sparing excess praise gravy, Joey is in fine form throughout this hour long opus. Even the less sterling cuts on “Worship Music” are extra good thanks to his powerful vocals. Getting to the meat of the album, the tastiest chunks of “Worship” are the anthemic parts, namely “The Devil You Know” and “In The End.” The latter in particular is worth repeated listens. It’s an epic mid-tempo affair driven by a martial grimness and a chorus that swims inside your head long after the last note has been struck. Being Anthrax, oddities also abound. This explains “Judas Priest,” a somewhat disjointed tribute to that most influential leather clad quintet from England.

If you’re the skullduggerous type who settles for downloads, skip the inanities and settle on “In the End,” “The Constant,” “Judas Priest,” “The Devil You Know,” “Revolution Screams” and “Fight ‘Em Till You Can’t.” The last is a thrashing mad romp that harkens to classic “Among the Living”-era Anthrax, a beautiful mix of b-movie camp and fanboy homage. What’s really striking, however, is how the band’s eclecticism brings back a lot of hallmarks from the Johm Bush era. Take “The Constant,” for example; it’s got a groovy hook that you wouldn’t miss for anything, being pure 90s Anthrax that would fit in albums like “Volume 8: the Threat Is Real” or that strange follow up to “Sound of White Noise.” The same goes for half the songs on “Worship Music.” Sure, there’s thrash in large servings but the last two decades of Anthrax are heard in grand form.

In summation, “Worship Music” culminates the Anthrax experience. It brings back tidbits form every album and delivers them fresh and exciting. The songwriting is superb, the hooks irresistible, and the sheer Anthrax power is awesome. After so many frustrated years, it’s all worth it.

Horrific attempts at humor aside, “Scheepers” comes highly recommended to fans of Euro-metal, speedy or otherwise. Anyone who gets a boner listening to Judas Priest, Pretty Maids, Accept, Savatage, Scorpions, and Iron Maiden will fall in love with “Scheepers.” The album reciprocates in grand style with a torturous opener titled “Locked In the Dungeon” that slays every single misgiving several different ways. In short, it’s a kick ass song armed with twisting guitars, godly vocal work, and a huge chorus. Think “Painkiller” meets “Screaming For Vengeance.”

It’s not only Ralf who shines the most here, as a slew of session musicians and his own band mates are contributing to the album’s flavor. “Remission of Sin” stands out in particular for having Ripper Owens share vocal duties. The result is pretty much the same as when Rob Halford and Bruce Dickinson collaborated: the two singers end up sounding the same.  Other notable collaborators are Magnus Karlsson, longtime accomplice Matt Sinner, and even Snowy Shaw plus a few other illustrious guests who lurk in the same power metal milieu as Ralf.

Other than the guaranteed fist pumping anthems, there’s no shortage of softer tracks on “Scheepers.” The album’s sweeping ballads includes the symphonic doldrums of “The Fall,” the Judas Priest cover “Before the Dawn,” and the emotionally laden “Pain of the Accused.” Then there’s the weepy, peace loving farewell that’s album closer “Compassion,” a laidback singalong akin to Scheepers’ own version of Lennon’s “Imagine.”

It’s the heavy metal parts that leave the deepest impressions, however. Be it the soaring chorus in “Saints of Rock,” the churning “Cyberfreak,” the boring speed metal of “Play With Fire” or the humongous midtempo headbanger  ”Dynasty,” Scheepers has got everything covered. A rock solid first album from a towering frontman, Scheepers succeeds in filling the gap between Primal Fear albums.

Suffering is indeed the likely reaction to the fresh batch of material on “Unseen.” Despite the talented personnel in the band, “Unseen” simply fails to deliver the expected drama, the thrilling intensity, the all out no-holds-barred firestorm the world needs from these guys. Okay, so the new material’s predecessor “Versus” marked a return to the heavy stuff, but that album was glass is half empty too. The band are already too comfortable in the particular niche they’ve wormed themselves into. Yet why does “Unseen” prove so unsatisfying? It’s because the Haunted have switched genres.

Terrible, huh? It can’t be missed here. Most of the songs on this platter hardly register in the metal spectrum. Expect hook laden riffs and weird lyrics about Dolving’s…whatever. The lyrics don’t matter as much as the palpable mood that infects the tunes here. The Haunted may have changed colors for “Unseen,” yet an indelible part of the band remains amid the general awfulness. Throughout the albums [boring] twists and turns, there lurks the quintet’s gloomy signature. The Haunted were always a dark bunch anyway, possessed by demos within and without. It’s a condition that paints some of the tunes here a few shades scarier than usual. For proof, try the album closer “Done” or “The City.” Vibrant perhaps until the heavy rain comes pouring down to soak everything in its gray glumness. No matter where the band turn, the storm clouds are never far away.

“Unseen” begins on a dispiritng note with the ironic “Never Better” that’s followed by the flicker of hope “No Ghost.” What comes next sucks and so does what follows after it. Apply the same to the title track, “The Skull,” and the weird half baked jive “Ocean Park.” Is there a glimmer of hope amid the tragic musical circumstances? Yes, thanks to a little guitar soloing, a little change in Dolving’s singing style, a little heaviness too and little else besides. Sigh.

The forceful brunt of these verities come into play during the opener “Prepare for Attack,” which showcases the band’s tutelage in the classics from the Bay Area scene. Every single thrash staple is featured on the album’s opening salvo, whether it’s the obligatory vocal snarls or the intricate guitar work. “Time Is Up” pushes all the right buttons for a specific type of metalhead, specifically the denim-clad diehards who hailed the rise of Municipal Waste some time ago, dug Gama Bomb’s irreverent humor, and continue to enjoy the retrogressive trend seeping across the underground. Havok are all this and more thanks to the occasional surprises that disrupt the album’s edge of your seat pace. The sonic firestorm may never let up on such scorchers as “Fatal Intervention,” “Covering Fire,” “The Cleric,” or the relentless title track and album closer “Time Is Up,” but there’s more than enough sweet variety when it comes to the real standouts like “Killing Tendencies” or the wonderful apocalyptic tune “The Cleric.”

The final verdict on “Time Is Up” is the same as a lot of albums these last few years. It’s pure thrash metal steeped in the classical influences with nary a modern edge to give it 21^st century appeal. “Time Is Up” doesn’t ask you to like it, it demands total submission. Nothing more, nothing less.

Expectations were pretty grim for “Black Rivers Flow” thanks to this writer’s prejudice towards new bands. Of course, the ingrained prejudice has its reasons, borne from suffering through so many albums that were riding on a trend or some other ephemeral abomination. Experiencing second-rate copycat metalcore bands, talentless/tasteless power metal, and sub par death metal have all withered his soul, leaving it coarse and angry at the very scene it has sworn allegiance to.

Melodrama aside, the present material from Lazarus AD is indeed quite the boot to the arse. It starts off without a boring intro or orchestra-driven filmscore pomp, which is a lingering bad habit among a vast multitude of inferior releases today. Indeed, the music here commences with a rousing groovefest that kindles the expectant listener’s enthusiasm for what “Black Rivers Flow” has to offer. The first song “American Dreams” is a worthwhile appetizer catchy enough to merit a few additional repeat listens. But those who forge ahead will find themselves amply rewarded by its far heavier siblings “The Ultimate Sacrifice” and a vigorous title track.

The irresistible visceral music is extended past the album’s halfway mark. While “Casting Forward” might strike discriminating ears as too catchy—too commercial—and uncomfortably upbeat for a ’serious’ metal album, rest assured what comes after is pure raging thrash. Personally, this writer doesn’t consider Lazarus AD a pure thrash band, for this is inaccurate and putting tags on artists are convenient but not entirely useful in the long run. Aside from these reasons, Lazarus AD have a powerful inclination for massive choruses and hooks galore that indicate a broader musical tutelage beyond the speedy confines of the mighty thrash school.  With songs like “Light A City (Up In Smoke)” and the utterly stupendous “Eternal Vengeance” Lazarus AD prove they’ve got what it take to pull off great things, epic things, timeless things.

Those looking for faults in this masterwork might fuss about Jeff Paulick’s vocals, but that’s just being a twat about boring details. Nitpicking performances here is a pointless task because the band are stellar for most of the album’s running time, be it the Dan Gapen-Alex Lackner twin guitar pyro or Ryan Shutler’s effortless drum work. These bastards have raised the bar so high, it would be awful if what came after this sucked in comparison.

The problem with “Khaos Legions,” despite its startling poignancy, is a lot of the songs are rehashed. Just take the album intro, for example. “Khaos Overture” is a corny opening salvo that sets the anarchic tone of the oncoming fare—it’s also no different from a previous album opener circa 2003. “Yesterday Is Dead And Gone” is an okay track to stimulate the listener’s enthusiasm; the Amott brothers are in fine form and Angela’s vocals are vicious as ever. “Bloodstained Cross” is equally riveting. Unfortunately by the time “Under Black Flags We March” arrives the band seem to be scraping the bottom of the barrel. No wonder giant chuncks of “Khaos Legions” is reminiscent of past releases like “Doomsday Machine” and “Anthems of Rebellion,” whether it’s the juicy hooks or the thrash tinged pace.

Since we’re dealing with Archenemy nothing is amiss on the musicianship front. What does suck are the cliché lyrics and dull songs that unravel with utter dullness. Take “City of the Dead,” “Cruelty Without Beauty,” “Cult of Chaos,” or “Thorns In My Flesh,” all filler tracks galore with nary a moment of passionate brilliance. Luckily there are enough solid numbers left for redemption such as “Secrets” or “Through the Eyes of the Raven.” There are two instrumental tracks too for guitar nerds to drool over. Other than these gems, “Khaos Legions” teeters on the brink, an almost half-assed effort saved by commendable talent.

Though Archenemy’s last studio outing “Rise of the Tyrant” saw them at the height of their powers, “Khaos Legions,” on the other hand, is a painful step backward. Guys and girls with secret crushes on Angela are much better off revisiting their Carcass albums to ease the heartbreak.

A word of caution: It might take repeated spins before this latest Edguy endears itself to the skeptics because there still remains much worth grimacing about. Lead single and opener “Robin Hood” seems an odd choice to represent the album, but give it time and the song grows on you. It really is a sword swinging romp worthy of high praise. The video is an embarrassment though. Fortunately, Edguy’s well honed songwriting acumen (thanks Tobias Sammet) is a huge contributor to the sterling quality of the material here—most of it, at least. “Nobody’s Hero” is a heady romp driven by some flashy guitar play from monsignors Jans Ludwig and Dirk Sauer.  ”Rock of Cashel” kinda sucks the way “Tinnitus Sanctus” did a few years back, but “Pandora’s Box” is a keeper.

The middle of the album is hit and miss, especially “Two Out Of Seven” which sounds like a cross between Europe and Def Leppard (so does the token ballad “Every Night Without You). There’s supposed to be a dick joke in the lyrics that’s totally suffocated by an overwhelming chorus. Edguy are quite wonderful when they aren’t taking themselves seriously and the awkwardness of “Two Out Of Seven” is a fine example.

For true metal glory, go for “Faces in the Darkness,” Fire On The Downline,” and “Behind The Gates To Midnight World.” These are mighty offerings true to the band’s whimsical tendencies. Even better, they also have a touch of wickedness in them. Performance-wise the band are at the top of their game, a plateau they’ve reached many years ago around the time “The Savage Poetry” was reissued. Tobias Sammet is in fine form as usual and his mates execute the songs with deftness. Hardly a groundbreaking release, “Age of the Joker” is still a worthy effort from these much maligned Germans. Diehard Edguy lovers owe themselves a good dose of this album.

For their third magnum opus, Crown the Lost offer a selection of euro-melodic songs that feature impressive guitar soloing and a pedigreed sophistication. To fully comprehend and acquire a taste for their music though, it’s necessary to understand the inner workings of the quintet. Founded several years ago under the banner of thrash metal, Crown the Lost’s foundation stones were soaring clean vocals, twin guitar duels, riffs, and a touch of progressive technicality.

These elements are still in place for “Cold Pestilent Hope,” the follow up to their confusing 2008 release “Blind Faith Loyalty.” The main difference between the two albums is the present material is penance for the trespasses of its elder sibling. See, though the vision for “Blind Faith Loyalty” was grandiose, execution fell short, resulting in a less than appetizing listen. “Cold Pestilent Hope” goes the extra mile to rectify this grievous fault, thus the songs are tighter and the band’s compositions are abbreviated to a digestible few minutes each.

The album commences with an instrumental opener then proceeds to get underway with “Separate Blood From Waste.” It’s here that Crown the Lost’s greatness is exhibited in all guns blazing fahsion—there’s newcomer vocalist Leon Mallah’s Queensryche-esque enunciations, thrahstastic dueling mayhem from guitarists Joe Bonnadio and David Ghelke, plus a capable rhythm section that preserves the song’s cohesion.

When it comes to songwriting, lyrical themes, and musicianship, Crown the Lost are a fully matured band. What they seem to lack this far into their existence is a solid grasp of what truly rivets a listener. It’s a difficult art, akin to alchemy and other subliminal endeavors. As a result, some of the tracks on this album are passable at best.

This doesn’t mean “Cold Pestilent Hope” is tedious. It’s more eclectic thatn any of the band’s previous outpourings, with an instrumental stewing in the middle and real moshpit worthy fare spread across its 50 minutes. Try “Bloodsoaked Serenity,” the title track, and the farewell tune “Inexorable.” Hopefully, this album earns a reputation for being Crown the Lost’s “Through The Ashes of Empires,” a masterful effort that apves the way for their best, most lasting work.

UPDATE: According to their website, Crown the Lost have disbanded. Does this make “Cold Pestilent Hope” a collectors item? Oh well, Crown the Lost is dead–long live Crown the Lost!

That message is spread out across the dozen tracks that comprise “Brahmavidya: Immortal I,” the concluding installment of the band’s ambitious Brahmavidya album cycle where the quartet spent ages waxing philosophical about non-dualism and various esoteric mental states. The mystery of Rudra is revealed in their liner notes, which compels the interested listener to purchase a physical copy of this album (you are very much welcome to), since the quartet’s musical delivery is too chaotic for easy digestion. The true madman behind the band’s unique take on extreme metal, however, is singer-bassist Kathir, whose most illuminating verses are garbled thanks to a rasping vocal delivery. A more exacting task befalls his bandmates, especially guitarists Vinod and Devan, who have to paint layers upon layers of mood with their axes.

That’s what best describes the Rudra experience: chaotic. This is death metal taken far, far away from its usual stomping ground in b-movie horror carnage. It’s also black metal taken far, far away from the icy grimness of the Norwegian scene’s legacy. This is Vedic Metal, a musical style executed within a cultural context. See, the Tamil-Malay alliance that formed to create Rudra have devoted their music exertions on the immense task of communicating a philosophy on pagan ears. Either accept them thru sweet surrender or turn away and never revisit their splendor.

If you choose the former, be prepared to be swept away by twisting guitar melodies, complex arrangements, and a generous side order of Asian ambience. For best results, absorb this album from start to finish then enjoy additional spins—it really is quite a head trip. The whirlpool of calculated noise begins to swirl with the ominous “Now Therefore” and proceeds to cast its grim spell with such incendiary salvos as “Ravenous Theories of Deception,” “Vultures of Slavery,” “Incredulous Void,” “Harrowing Carryons of Syllogism,” until the final life spurt “Advaita Samrajya” climaxes the entire auditory immersion.

Another interesting factoid about the band is they’re one of the few promising glimmers from the Texas scene to merit attention on an international scale—at least around the time they rejoined the fray. Mention Texas metal to anyone and the best result is Pantera. Helstar are a whole different ball game, however, and trace their lineage to the same pool of influences that spawned Bay Area thrash. Weaned on the NWOBHM and a good helping of pure American power that’s in the same league as Armored Saint, Savatage, and Metal Church, Helstar are a headbanger’s first choice when it comes to fist pumping gratification.

Not the type of band to bother with niceties “Glory of Chaos” launches on a ferocious note with “Angels Fall to Hell,” an opener that slaughters anyone’s misgiving’s once the guitars start ripping. But it’s singer James Rivera who deserves the most credit here. Without his incendiary vocals, Helstar would be just another thrash band peddling jagged razor riffs matched with seismic machinegun percussion. Though James Rivera’s singing style is similar to Joey Belladonna and/or  Sean Peck from Cage, the man lends a grittier edge to his throatwork that’s a welcome reminder of Helstar’s extreme inclinations. Whereas the first song here is a chugging moshpit igniter, the follow up “Pandemonium” is speed metal at full throttle. A generous dose of camp and cartoonish nihilism animates “Monarch of Bloodshed” and its corny sibling, the headbobbing chug-fest “Summer of Hate”

Predominantly fast and driven by an edge-of-your-seat pace, Helstar’s latest foregoes the usual balladic dross for a total rampaging mad thrash firestorm burning for around 40 minutes. If your ears aren’t fried by “Alma Negra” or “Anger” then perhaps another spin is in order. It shan’t be regretted.