This fucker hit that exact bruised edge where daylight's gasping its last and the night's already wrapping cold fingers around your neck - no bullshit intro, just immediate drop into riffs that build like storm clouds, heavy as sin, with blackened snarls cutting through prog twists and those old-school metal hooks that grab and don't let go.
Stallkamp's been itching to do this since ditching Niviane - no more arguing over every goddamn note, just him, his kid on some leads, and Blake from that Ophidian Memory one-man deal ripping in with vocals that flip from savage growls to soaring shit that actually lands emotional without getting cheesy.
The whole thing's got this thick, crawling atmosphere: synths drifting like fog off a graveyard, leads that slice clean, structures that sprawl but never ramble into pointless wank. Six tracks, no dead weight - it's all forward motion, dense, mean, replayable.
Mix is solid for a self-produced job - Rick kept it clear so the aggression punches, bass growls low, programmed drums hit with spite instead of sounding fake. That Chris Cold cover screams corrupted void, logo's got that raw underground scratch. No trend-chasing crap here; it's dudes pulling from Dissection's chill, Opeth's moody bends, straight heavy backbone, and whatever else stuck in their craw, then making it feel like their own personal midnight purge.
It's not blowing the doors off the genre - plenty of prog-blackened heavy acts wander these parts - but it doesn't fake revolution. It's committed, honest, pissed-off in the right ways, and for a first swing, it lands way harder than most.
https://dimensionoftheabandoned.bandcamp.com/album/dimension-of-the-abandoned
Thanks to Grand Sounds PR.