The Asteroid Bullet Belt

Baby steps into darkness.  Though I may not have grown up here, I do consider Thessaloniki to be “my city”. Living an hour away from it, and enjoying my university years here, has led to me developing a particular connection with it, the people and its rhythms providing an air of comfort and homeliness. This extends to its vibrant underground scene, which has been sustaining itself through shows and the proliferation of local zines (shoutout to Morbid Press, if you live in the city and haven’t bought an issue yet get on with the programme). For how small the city is compared to Athens, or most big European metal capitals for that matter, it has proven to be a treasure trove for metal, with many bands cropping up on a seemingly yearly basis, some of which I’ve already covered, such as Dysnerved and Vile Extortion. Among them is Nihilism, who have elevated themselves to local hero status within the scene since their formation, opening up for a lot of big names over the past few years...

Making up for lost time.  I’ve always had a vested interest in my hobbies and obsessions being as far removed from consumerism as possible. Obviously, in the big 26, a time where capitalism’s tendrils have infiltrated every aspect of your waking (and perhaps also sleeping) life, it’s nigh-on impossible to avoid it in the things you enjoy. Everything needs to be commodified and turned into an excuse to push you towards rampant consumption and expenditure, the big festival lineups that show up across the world are very much an indication of that, even when it comes to more underground fare. Big events, stacked with bands that people are sure to want to catch live, because “How could I possibly miss out on this lineup?”, and obviously spend money on accommodation, travel expenses, and merchandise. Concert tourism. Furthermore, festivals (and bigger shows in general) stifle the connection between artist and audience, more often than not trading it for a greater spectacle. Due to that, ...

Breaking free from the depths of Tartarus.  Whenever I cover Greek bands, I tend to discuss how I’m surprised to see artists who exist beyond the confines of what one might expect of the country’s usual scenes, be they black or thrash metal. As I’ve taken it upon myself to focus primarily on releases from my home country over the past year or so, I’ve had the pleasure of stumbling upon some outliers that I don’t think I’d have found had it not been for this self-imposed limitation. DSKRTN (if anyone knows how to pronounce this, hit me up) is one such find, and arguably one of the most surprising ones thus far, as war metal hasn’t ever been a sound Greece was known for, given the country’s predilection to melancholy and arcane splendour. As you can imagine, a record as barbarous as  Cyber-Cataclysm of Nuclear Typhoeus and Entropy Beyond the Flesh Codex  wasn’t something I thought I’d find in the process of writing these reviews, but here we are. I must confess that in my f...

Digging your own grave XX: Parting ways.  It’s hard to cook up an interesting introduction to a review regarding a split. You obviously can’t hone in on a thematic thread, be it aesthetic or lyrical, and writing an introduction about each band is just not sustainable, nor does it make for engaging writing. So I’m just left staring down the barrel of what is at the time Μνήμα’s most recent split, and their last release of 2023. As we’ve already established, these particular works aren’t exactly pillars of excellence, and serve primarily as a way for the band to put out a handful of material without the need to commit to something more profound or elaborate. As such, their material in them tends to be hit-or-miss, something that is further compounded by their having to share space with other artists whom I’m not quite familiar with. Really, it puts into sharp relief why splits aren’t a popular format to cover in the Archives, despite them having their own merits. In any case, our gue...

Digging your own grave XIX: Oops, all noise!  Truth be told, part of me dreaded reaching 2023 in the course of this series. Something about having to come off a year filled with landmark releases for Μνήμα’s career made it feel redundant, even if greener pastures lie further ahead. Industrious as our mastermind might be, it’s not hard to imagine that life, and the music that springs from the experiences therein, took its toll on the man behind the mask, and led to 2023 being a year where something, anything, had to be put out in order to keep the lights on, show that the project is still alive and kicking. Furthermore, it’s a year comprised exclusively of splits, which by and large I don’t find to be particularly impactful in the wider canon. But hey, a man’s gotta keep his word, and at least this here split with Ahulabrum makes for a neat novelty. Now, Μνήμα’s always tended towards noise, but more often than not it served an auxiliary role in their sound, and even the band’s past ...

Satanic Goatkraft; or, one of the most fun shows I've ever been to.  More often than not, the summer season tends to be quite busy in terms of how many shows it has, but much to my chagrin, it thus far seems to be quite light on that front for me, at least based on my tastes and expectations. Admittedly, the 2026 iteration of Mammothfest taking place in Thessaloniki was stacked with a slew of good bands, ranging from Ahab to Carcass, but I found each day’s lineups to be much too inconsistent in terms of how much they interested me to be willing to drop 35€ on any single day. So what was the second best option? To drop 30€ to watch two bands that were guaranteed to give me a good time in Hellripper and Midnight. Empty as the season might be so far, the two bands definitely kicked June off in style, and it was only natural that I’d be attending their performance on the third, given that it was the former’s first time in the city, and the latter is on track to become an artist-in-resi...

Digging your own grave XVIII: Do not go gentle into that good night.  There often comes a point in an artist’s career where they release something that could very well be considered a pinnacle of theirs, be it on an artistic or personal level. With it, comes the question of “What now?”. Artist and audience are forced to reckon with the fact that a work of art has been so profoundly affecting for either or both parties, the former also having to ask themselves the daunting question of what is to follow. Does one try to outdo their masterwork, and risk turning into an Icarus, falling victim to their own ambition? Are they to look backwards and attempt to go back to basics, at the potential cost of sounding redundant to the outside world? Or should altogether ignore it, and move past it in an effort to explore different territory, in turn subverting whatever expectations might’ve been foisted upon them? In Μνήμα’s case, they’ve always opted for the third option, regardless of what one...