Each Friday, Editors Ted Nubel and Jon Rosenthal [usually] will share their picks for Records of the Week—not necessarily what's out this week, just whatever's on our mind or on our record players.


Jon Rosenthal


Until He Finds Us

It was only a matter of time before I covered something not metal in this column. As far as the "slowcore" (read as: slow, sad indie rock, generally with harmonized vocals) sound is concerned: while Low remains the regal and reigning duo, the more obscure Timonium remain a close favorite second. Until He Finds Us is unlike other music in the blanket slowcore term–the songwriting is varied, the atmospheres are more dynamic, and, most importantly, the music isn't static–all while retaining the genre's trademark despondent misery and beauty. What made me want to recommend Until He Finds Us in this week's Records Of The Week installment is because of how heavy this particular record is. There are these moments when a slight distortion kicks in and the music becomes absolutely suffocating. Much like Low, Timonium is heavier than your doom metal band.

Songwriter, guitarist, and singer Adam Hervey, who also runs (ran?) independent art space and venue pehrspace, suffered a stroke ten years ago and made a miraculous and full recovery, leading to 2019's surprise release Saenz Audience, Timonium's first record in over 15 years (which is just as gorgeous as this, the record's 2003 predecessor). According to the note Hervey sent with my order, I was actually the first person to order the Saenz Audience tape from their Bandcamp. You could say I'm a fan.


Ted Nubel


Excerpts from a Future Past

This record is a sublime chapter in the Swedish band's trajectory. A proggy, dark take on that liminal space between progressive rock and hard rock, this album that proved Hällas were masters of merging keyboards and guitars into blissful, spacey, and dramatic music – something their debut record suggested but this one confirmed, cementing their complex sound. Obviously, "Star Rider" is a universally identified highlight - 4 million streams on Spotify?! - but all throughout the album, there's moments of dark beauty sitting somewhere between fantastical whimsy and synth-filled deep-space romance.

Colin Dempsey


All That Was Promised

I will kick myself throughout the rest of 2023 for not listening to Hath’s All That Was Promised upon its release in 2022. I would've ridden this album all the way to my year-end list because it’s my romantic ideal of modern death metal. Hath applies the teachings of more progressive, vile, and commercial death metal groups and distills them into a spoiling of riches. The New Jersey band wears plenty of hats here, like the emotional desolation on the title track, the inquisitive back half on "Decollation," and the clean-vocal-boasting, destined-to-crossover "Kenosis." Dividing the songs in this manner feels as perverse as cutting a baby in half to satisfy divorced parents because Hath designed All That Was Promised to exist as one beast. They carry a mood that's as reflective as it is fearful across all tracks in a Dungeons & Dragons-owing narrative. Fun fact; lead singer Frank Albanese has penned a few D&D campaigns that you can download through his Twitter, an app that he’s single-handedly keeping afloat with tweets like this.

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