Tribulation
Sub Rosa In Æternum
Okay, so, it’s not really possible to call Tribulation ‘extreme metal’ anymore, is it? The stock of extremity in their work has been dwindling for a while now, to effective nonexistence on this new album. Only three of its nine tracks actually have uncleans, and even then, they’re still in Johannes Andersson’s creaking ghoul voice that’s 100% understandable in its diction. But that’s not a bad thing, is it? Maybe to a certain subset of listeners for whom their predilection for uncompromising brutality is a dick-measuring contest they always feel is necessary to compete, but for real people with personalities, it’s easy to recognise how great Tribulation are regardless. Their death metal cocoon has now fully split, and a resplendent gothic butterfly has emerged.
It was only a matter of time, considering how deeply 2021’s Where The Gloom Becomes Sound anchored itself in those tones informed by a more traditional strain of metal. Sub Rosa In Æternum is the natural next step, as a more explicitly stern and stentorian effort defined by grainy goth texture that’s fresh out the crypt. At the extreme end is Reaping Song and its deep allusions to Nick Cave or Tom Waits, itself a far cry from the echoing yet immensely tuneful blackness of Tainted Skies and Saturn Coming Down, or the Cult-esque stormer Drink The Love Of God. Bundled together, it’s all indicative of a band very aware of how to utilise this space effectively. Had this been some bolt-from-the-blue gear-shift out of something totally unrelated, there’s no way it would’ve turned out this accomplished.
As Tribulation’s sixth album, Sub Rosa In Æternum really does feel like a point that’s been consistently grown towards. That’s a lot of what makes it so rewarding, on top of Tribulation’s own vision. With imagery of dark magic and the occult that they’ve always been fond of, they’ve now transitioned into the perfect accompaniment for it, and cutting out grand swathes of the camp that’s often attached in the process. Hungry Waters is the perfect showcase for that, in its cycling, steady bass and blackly glinting guitars that hint at something more listener-friendly without an outright pop streak. If Ghost have stood as the goth-metal bellwether for years, then Tribulation are deliberately ignoring their cues for something more—for lack of a better word—‘genuine’.
It’s kind of funny that, among that, the songs that try to preserve tie with the heavier side of Tribulation aren’t as good, but they aren’t noteworthy lows either. It’s a testament to how good a band they continue to be, quietly racking up credits towards being one of current metal’s most under-appreciated names. Sub Rosa In Æternum isn’t shy for a further few of those, especially a means of notable evolution and metamorphosis that’s almost impossibly efficient at redirecting everything that worked in the past. On principle alone, even metal’s most overcompensatory types should hopefully look on in appreciation.
For fans of: Unto Others, Spirit Adrift, Grave Pleasures
‘Sub Rosa In Æternum’ by Tribulation is released on 1st November on Century Media Records.
Meryl Streek
Songs For The Deceased
Who’d’ve thought this would be a prominent archetype to see in 2024? Here’s another sophomore album from an act remained firmly attached to their Irish roots, embracing them but also being hardened and disenfranchised by them to an almost equal degree. No, Meryl Streek mightn’t be at Kneecap’s level of Oscar-nominated autobiopics, but the point still stands. Besides, the particular style of Meryl Streek probably works better as these heated, individual polemics than being relayed through a Michael Fassbender starring role. In his spoken, grinding punk vehicles—note the hesitancy to use the specific word ‘songs’—Meryl Streek’s brutal efficiency at eviscerating modern Ireland’s bleak, predatory systems is about as striking as it gets. With a title as loaded and focused on its message as Songs For The Deceased’s is, it’s hard to look away when he gets going.
That said, it’s a little less radical-feeling than 2022’s 796 was, though only because that album came out of literally nowhere with its fire already fully lit. On Songs For The Deceased, there are basically no concessions made, even in the wake of Meryl Streek’s ongoing journey out of a ‘best-kept secret’ tag. If anything, the lenses have gotten even tighter, with tracks titled after specific individuals to tell their stories of abuse and austerity at the mercy of corrupt governments. Said government is addressed most plainly on Bertie, named after former Taoiseach Bertie Ahern as a face for a hedonistic, corrupt upper class, a million miles away from the normal people dying as a repercussion. Littered throughout are samples of news broadcasts to add an ironclad layer of fact to Meryl Streek’s snarls and emotion that’s barely held together. His almost feels like the response to the way tragedies like that are normalised, and the people to whom they happen are barely given a second thought, such is the way things have ended up.
It’s a bleak, unfriendly listen; there’s no way around that. Even on the album’s most positive note If This Is Life, the primary thrust is still escape from the current system and bringing along the small lifelines that have been found. And as a result, there can be a feel of wheel-spinning going on to an extent, especially when The Industry comes in towards the end to level the same venom at the music industry at large, and seems more than a bit out of step. But Meryl Streek is nothing if not a profoundly ordinary man, wearing his determination to be heard proudly, regardless of how messy that can feel. Reflecting that is the sound he’s established for himself, predominantly a combination of punk spirit via industrial destitution and a severely DIY sensibility. Even when joined by members of The Chisel and Benefits on individual tracks, the prevailing view of all of this always circles back to Meryl Streek himself. On an album as scattered and scrapbooked as its artwork would imply, the vision is so centralised, and so undeniably his own. You can well imagine not a single other hand dipping into this pot, and that is a truly impressive thought. It’s the essence of punk, in other words—a creative disempowered by the world and culture around them, and strive to fight back on their own terms.
For Meryl Streek, that’s a note-perfect wavelength to where he was last time. Nothing’s really changed, but it doesn’t need to when the Powers That Be haven’t either, nor has the drive to amplify those subjugated by them the most. Songs For The Deceased would absolutely be a worthwhile endeavour for those reasons alone. The fact that Meryl Streek is still one of the most gripping, uninhibitable and uncontrollable voices in punk’s underground only sweetens the deal even more. Again, 796 was still better, but by a metric that’s largely insignificant when considering how much this album accomplishes on its own.
For fans of: Benefits, BIG SPECIAL, Kneecap
‘Songs For The Deceased’ by Meryl Streek is out now on Venn Records.
Clay J Gladstone
Is This How I Die?
How would you expect a band who’ve opened for both The Menzingers and Electric Callboy to sound? Well, if the sordid lineage of the latter’s imitators is anything to go by, thankfully not like them! Truth be told, Clay J Gladstone aren’t the cleanest fits with the former either, outside of the general alt-punk design philosophy. On this debut, you can cite a full-throated take on The Wonder Years or even My Chemical Romance in spots as more accurate. Chief to it all, though, is the hoarse, omni-purpose emo vocals from Tim Wisbey, the sealant that ultimately holds the integrity of a great album to just that standard.
It’s the believability of Is This How I Die? that serves it up in such a gripping way. Here is an exploration of Wisbey’s anxiety and fear of death after his own father’s passing, through a lens far clearer than your garden-variety punk or emo expulsion. In the ranks of Australian punk specifically, it’s just nice to hear inner turmoil emboldened by more gravity than getting too drunk, high and rowdy. Clay J Gladstone even do that very style so much better, as Why Does Everybody Hate Me? parts the slurry of its slacker-grunge riff with thwack-to-the-temple hook-work and a presentation that’s far from shy about some exuberance. Elsewhere, they touch upon post-hardcore (Post Modern Teenage Angst), pop-punk (Parasite) and an acoustic mid-record lament (In All Of My Disgrace) without a beat missed.
But again, it really is Wisbey who makes this album. Without him as a powerhouse of red-raw openness—on top of keeping melodic efforts so key—Is This How I Die? probably wouldn’t feel as special. It’s a lot like a Trophy Eyes album in that regard, where the mouthpiece at the fore has such a dominant effect on what’s going on around them. (The Aussie origin of both is just a happy coincidence.) Therefore, a lot of Clay J Gladstone’s work has the frenzied, watery-eyed intensity of a real emo slobberknocker in its intent. You’re unlikely to find a bad moment or a turn that doesn’t work (despite We All Die Alone seeing some major benefit if it were fleshed out beyond its minute-and-a-half runtime). For a debut especially, it’s a pretty excellent display of a band finding their feet with zero hang-ups to contend with.
On top of all that, there’s just the fundamentals with which Clay J Gladstone strike a whole host of chords. It sounds great; it’s consistently muscular in all approaches; it absolutely whizzes by without feeling undercooked or slim. For punk and emo in 2024, sleeper hits aren’t coming from deeper out of nowhere than Is This How I Die?. Considering its creators are running blazing laps around the majority of their native genre output, you would hope, if nothing else, that greater waves are coming, because this is the sort of stuff that could really make some. Electric Callboy would be so proud.
For fans of: Trophy Eyes, The Wonder Years, Can’t Swim
‘Is This How I Die?’ by Clay J Gladstone is released on 1st November on Def Wolf Records.
Words by Luke Nuttall
