THE DEVIL'S MONTH: October 2025
Rounding up some of the finest releases of the previous month - including Andy's picks too!
We’ve said it before, but it bears repeating - The Devil’s Month is a very spontaneous thing. Both me (José) and Andy aren’t really sitting around pouring through lists of releases to decide which ones are the best. What’s fun about this monthly feature is precisely the fact that it is a snapshot of a moment, like when you bump into a friend and they ask you “so what have you been listening to?” In those situations, how often do you remember hours later five other bands that you could also have mentioned? Same thing happens here. Sometimes we forget to feature stuff we really want to (like what happened last month with Scorpion Milk), sometimes we happen to only discover and fall in love with a record that’s already been out for months (like I have this month with Ken Pomeroy’s unbelievably amazing ‘Cruel Joke’), and sometimes there’s just too much music coming out during a particular month and nobody really wants us picking seventeen hundred albums each month. For instance, in October alone, aside from these 5+5 featured here, some of the best albums of the year were released, but since they have already been heavily talked about in this joint in other ways, I chose to leave them out so that others can get a mention. I’m thinking specifically of Menace Ruine’s ‘The Color Of The Grave Is Green’ (which was the focus of their last appearance on Band of the Week), Christian Kjellvander’s ‘Ex Voto/The Silent Love’ (discussed in depth on Christian’s recent podcast episode) or Author & Punisher’s ‘Nocturnal Birding’ (also the main subject of Tristan’s recent appearance on the podcast, and then I even saw the band live playing songs from it) which will all naturally appear somewhere on my albums of the year list (coming next month!).
The point, you ask? Well, the main one is that there is a fuckton of amazing music being made every day, and that deserves to be celebrated. Despite the fact that every thing happening everywhere seems to make it abundantly clear that we are all fucked - “the shit show of life in 2025,” as our Andy perfectly describes it in one of his texts this month -, there are still stubborn artists pouring their souls out to try and make music the one thing that might see us through this dumpster fire we’ve trapped ourselves in. Let’s try to help them out, shall we?
AFI
Silver Bleeds The Black Sun…
(Run For Cover Records)
So no, I didn’t have Davey Havok suddenly morphing into a goth William Dafoe and AFI coming out with a Bauhaus-The Cure-Sisters Of Mercy-Fields Of The Nephilim-The Mission-The Cult mega-goth mashup album in my 2025 bingo card, even as wide open to unexpected shit as you have to make ‘em these days. The fact that in the end it really works, however, is perhaps the biggest shocker of all. Of course, with any other band, such a sharp direction shift would be more “suspicious” - though I always defend that if the result is a cool album, who cares about the motivations, but still -, but fortunately/unfortunately (cross out the most appropriate according to your personal taste and relationship with the band) we’ve been more than used to expect the boldly unexpected from these guys. I mean, it’s not like they’ve ever hidden the fact that these bands are an influence, AFI have clearly always been the most goth of all them goth punk bands, but to have them go all the way like this is still very unexpected. Especially because each song seems to pay homage to one particular band. Opener ‘The Bird Of Prey’ sees Havok out-Peter Murphying Peter himself with a song that, let’s face it, Bauhaus themselves would have killed to write, a vibe which carries straight to the second (and even more awesome) song ‘Behind The Clock’, but when ‘Holy Visions’ hits, street-smart beats and morose mumbling and gang vocals in the chorus and everything, it’s like a lost outtake from ‘Vision Thing’. I’m not going to do a track by track, relax, but you get the idea of what the rest of the album is like if you just add all those names I mentioned at the beginning of the text. Cohesive, it most certainly doesn’t sound like, but it strangely ends up being so. There’s a considerable charm in the way the band handled this, with true love for the genre and way above average songwriting talent, so if you have any kind of a goth bone in you, you won’t be able to resist falling in love with it. It’s certainly better than any AFI album since ‘Sing The Sorrow’, at least, so they’re doing something right. Oh, and then there’s the last song, which after the massive The Cure-esque exercise that is ‘A World Unmade’, decides to abruptly evoke, erm, proper punk-era, ‘The Art Of Drowning’ AFI. Dunno how, or why, or if it means anything for the future, but hey, I’ll take it.
One Of Nine
Dawn Of The Iron Shadow
(Profound Lore Records)
It’s like after 30 years, black metal has finally collectively realised how awesome Summoning were (well, still are, technically), and decided to do something about it. One Of Nine also firmly lay down their camp in Middle-earth, and while Tolkien themes in metal are nothing new, this amount of dedication and absolute immersion in them - not to mention the respectful care about the lore and sheer musical excellence that One Of Nine employ in the songs - will always command immediate attention from all us nerds. I mean, this is it - if you’re into black metal and Tolkien at all, imagine how your ideal Tolkien-based black metal would sound, and I promise you ‘Dawn Of The Iron Shadow’ won’t be too far from it. Atmospheric, melodic yet furious and ravaging black metal, featuring a masterful use of keyboards and just the right amount of dungeon synth-adjacent parts for this kind of thing, evocative, moving and tasteful. There’s many a highlight throughout these very sensible 45 minutes (“epic” doesn’t necessarily mean “four hour triple album”, kids!), but none more bright than ‘Quest Of The Silmaril’, where every element that makes this one of the best metal albums of the year is in full glorious display - the grandeur, the storytelling, the soul-caressing brilliance of the tremolo-picking melodies, the various instrumental flourishes, all without taking anything away from the sheer intensity black metal requires, it’s a centrepiece and a half for the grandiose journey that this album provides. Not all those who wander are lost!
Sakna
De Syv Dødssynder
(Hypaethral Records)
Not exactly a new album, but a culmination of a very sad story, given some closure in the best possible way, with this, the sole Sakna album, being given a proper restoration and remastering treatment and finally available in physical formats by Hypaethral Records (whose recent catalogue I heartily recommend you to explore!). Sakna was a one-man band formed in the mid-2000s by a Canadian musician known as Solemn. With traces of Mournful Congregation, Emperor, Wolves In The Throne Room, but heavily influenced by Windir’s ‘Sóknardalr’ masterpiece in particular (and another tragic story in itself right there), despite the limited technology used in its original recording - and Solemn doing absolutely everything, vocals, guitars, bass, keyboards, organs, and drums -, this is an extraordinarily creative, dynamic mix of atmospheric black metal, doom, folk and dark ambient. The album was completed, but before its release, however, Solemn took his own life (at eighteen years of age). It was his brother S., who has his own project called Lunedi, who took on the task of mixing and mastering the original multitracks, a long-term project that is now finally reaping its rewards, which I can imagine are of the highest emotional order for S.. Featuring two extra tracks that weren’t on the original album, the release retains all of its original impact and originality. Young and inexperienced as he was, Solemn really did have a vision, and the songwriting talent to achieve it, so the massive “what if” really hangs over these windswept, melancholic pieces like an icy shroud. Regardless of context, however, it’s a fantastic album, and the brilliant genius of the music will soon transcend any lingering sadness one might feel listening to it because of the whole story. As it should be.
Scorpion Milk
Slime Of The Times
(Peaceville Records)
Such has been the density of quality releases in this past couple of months that some will inevitably fall through the cracks. So yeah, ‘Slime Of The Times’ came out in September already, it should have been on last month’s feature, but fuck it, it’s my party and I’ll celebrate it with whoever I want to - and Scorpion Milk deserve any exception and belong in any party. Of course, it being Mat McNerney behind this new band, a certain standard of quality is already expected, but this manages to go even beyond the man’s usual standards with all the other gems he’s given us over the years. Though it’s a new band, however, it’s not some shockingly different novelty - with Beastmilk long dead and its “replacement” Grave Pleasures in indefinite hiatus, this is clearly now the one that will take that particular space in Mat’s arsenal. In fact, though it is several other things besides that, let’s call it right now: ‘Slime Of The Times’ is the closest the Finland-based English musician has come to the untouchable magic of Beastmilk’s ‘Climax’ (and hey, also the ‘Use Your Deluge’ EP, which also deserves a mention), which is not to say, mind you, that it tries to emulate it in any way. As short-lived as that band was, it left behind the sort of irrepeatable, timeless music that can often haunt an artist forever if it’s not well managed, as it can become an insurmountable landmark if you keep trying to redo/outdo it in any shape or form. And though Mat has kept on doing relatively similar music with Grave Pleasures after the end of Beastmilk, as it was essentially the same band with one replaced member, in all honesty it can’t really be said that it ever felt like he was ever trying to remake ‘Climax’ or ride its success in any way. Because let’s face it, though this is an exercise in guessing what’s happening in an alternate timeline, I think that even if Johan “Goatspeed” Snell had never left and Beastmilk had gone on untouched, nothing would have been substantially different and ‘Climax’ would have remained one glorious, stellar anomaly. So yeah, in saying what I said earlier, I don’t mean that any of this sounds any closer to Beastmilk than Grave Pleasures ever did, but there’s a certain primal intensity here, a red-eyed ecstatic vibe, that has been noticeably absent from Grave Pleasures, no matter how good some of their records were. It’s good to see it back, and it’s good to also realise that it hasn’t been achieved with any kind of nostalgia tricks. No, Scorpion Milk is harder, more aggressive, but also more varied than anything Mat’s done before in the “apocalyptic post punk” category of his ouevre. Sure, ‘Another Day Another Abyss’ has that Borderlands-bandits-dancing-to-it feeling that could have easily placed it as a ‘Climax’ b-side, but what really nails it here is stuff like the horror punk or ‘She Wolf Of London’, the darkly festive Sisters mood of ‘All Snakes No Ladders’ or ‘The Will To Live’s slow-burning Killing Joke-isms. Just like with AFI up there, Bauhaus also seem to be a particular reference point, and it’s so great to see them finally being used as an inspiration in all the right ways, after all these decades of being totally misunderstood as a simple goth band. Best of all, in the middle of all this name-dropping, and wonderfully fuelled by yet another vibrant and wide-ranging vocal performance by Mr. McNerney, a real unique personality seems to be emerging for this band. Hopefully it’ll be given time to fully blossom this time.
夢遊病者
РЛБ30011922
(self-released)
As out-there as 夢遊病者 (Sleepwalker) have always been, constantly far beyond the outer fringes of everything, musically and otherwise, those of us who have been brave enough to try to follow their trajectory could think that we have them at least partially figured out by now. And I mean, we’ve surely tried to drag you guys along for this amazing ride - ‘Skopofoboexoskelett’ was our album of the year for 2023, we’ve interviewed them on a Band of the Week post when that same album came out, and shit, we’ve even broken throught their sort of anonimity by giving you a podcast episode with one of their members, name and face out in the open and all. But still, at every release, it feels like it’s back to square one, every time they rip another opening in the fabric of reality and down we go on another metaphysical trip through the backdoor of the universe. Except… well, except not this time, not really. ‘РЛБ30011922’, one 37 minute track, is surprising once again, shocking even, but not for its indecipherable complexity or its crazy twisted extremity. No, this profoundly moving piece will have you sweeping your chin off the floor by going the other way - whereas with any of their previous works, you felt like you had to listen to them a million times just to make a crack in the surface and get an inkling of whatever it is they’re trying to evoke, with ‘РЛБ30011922’ you kinda feel like you get it on the very first whirl through it. Of course, it’s still not simple music, there’s lots of musical ideas still being explored, but for their standards, it’s infinitely less frenetic. There aren’t any of those typical 夢遊病者 moments where it feels like a black hole is forming in your brain and is about to implode reality. This is less about surging outwards into future, distant galaxies, but more about being quiet for once and contemplating what has already passed, and what it meant. For once, 夢遊病者 are… vulnerable. Just human. If you take into consideration the concept of the album, which is supposed to be “a humble ode and reconstruction of the fragments of a life lived,” as well as “a talisman to a future hopeful of dignity, understanding and good will towards humankind,” it all makes sense. ‘РЛБ30011922’, despite being one continuous piece, doesn’t hide some fractures and some more abrupt transitions that aren’t as seamless as before, and well, that is in fact a perfect way to remember someone’s life through this medium. As they also reveal, this piece is meant to be “examining a key figure in the 夢遊病者 (sleepwalker) universe, without whom much of this output would not be possible,” and it is “akin to a life lived, from the first breath to the last.” The use of voice samples by Lev’s grandmother, the key figure in question (1922 - 2020), is the final piece in this outstanding homage, and whether you understand the language being spoken or not, it doesn’t really matter, you’ll get it anyway. It’s arguably the most heartfelt and appropriate use of something like this in music since the heartbreaking voices of Michael and Jarboe’s fathers positively haunted ‘Soundtracks For The Blind’, and it turns ‘РЛБ30011922’ into something quite beyond a mere album of music - a piece of humanity and connection that anyone with a functioning heart will be able to relate to on the most basic and organic of levels.
Believe In Nothing - Rot (Church Road Records)
Opener ‘Complete Desolation’ sets the scene for this massive record full of monolithic riffs, dark confessionals and cathartic release. Played at a perfect pace throughout with a monstrous production this is as good an antidote to the shit-show of life in 2025 as you’re going to get. This is grey British skies, awful weather, violent nights out, despondency, hurt, loss, helplessness and anger. The very bleakness at the heart of ‘What Would You Do?’ Makes for a tragic, compelling listen and stands apart from other sludge/noise/doom bands in the artistic mastery of it’s void-gazing form. ‘Meth’ has a gigantic riff-storm at its heart and ‘The Children Are Cattle’ plays out with a punishing cruelty. ‘Rot’ is a fierce, unflinching, physical album, contorted and mangled but uplifting in its rampant release. A hostile winter lies ahead but this stunning album will help me get through it.
Dead Mammals - Dead Mammals II (House of Gain Records)
I’d never heard of this lot until recently and may be late to the party with this release for my latest contribution to this column as it appears it has been available since June this year. Regardless, it’s a discovery I’m glad I’ve made. Noise rock from Rochester, UK apparently and aside from trace amounts of influence from some of the usual suspects in this genre (Jesus Lizard, Shellac) there’s an infectious bounce and swing to their sound, a singular bass tone and, at times, an early grunge sensibility, that sets them apart from others in this field. This is best heard in the (almost) funky ‘Muswell Hill’ and Slint-esque ‘Heir Sid’. ‘24 7’ is a wonderful instrumental and ‘Stupid Choice’ uses a telephonic vocal sound to great effect.
Dog Lips - Danger Forward (Strange Mono)
New Hampshire’s Dog Lips offer a garage rocking box of spitting, fizzing guitars, hefty drums ploughing a forward momentum, filthy bass and an overall sound of being between the bass bins in a dark room, eyes closed and wide smile with all senses left at the door, lost in the joyous cacophony. The Cramps meets Nuggets in ‘I Am’ while ‘Voicemail Bomb Threat’ has a Buzzcocks guitar riff underpinned by bass which wouldn’t be out of place on an early ‘80s record by The Fall and an infectious, chanted vocal hook. Closing track ‘Last Ride’ features one of the best bass lines you’ll hear this year and around it guitars fly off the rails in joyous lo-fi abandon. What an album.
Jonesy - It’s Not How You Fall (self-released)
A masterclass in melancholic beauty and brevity by enigmatic UK underground experimental hip hop/electronic artist, Jonesy. Delicate acoustic guitar filigrees and a lachrymose ambience float beneath a vocal delivery that really reminds me of Leonard Cohen in its attitude, especially in ‘Dim Room’ and ‘Old Ways’. ‘Casket’ has a blurry Boards Of Canada style synth line which builds to a surrendered ecstasy and suggests someone, down below and down on their luck, reaching for the light. Affecting and healing music.
No Violet - Stop Me (Totality)
Following on from a couple of other fantastic tracks released earlier this year (‘Honesty Honestly’, ‘I Told You’) this latest from Bristol’s No Violet is a thing of immersive beauty & mystery. Fragile vocals quiver over circular guitar figures and stark drumming while dark fuzz drops in and out, it dynamically falls to quietude again before a totally blown out end section. No one else out there is currently making music like this. Strange, gorgeous and addictive.
Want to help us, our collaborators and the bands we cover keep the lights on, and get an exclusive tote bag to show for it? Become a paid subscriber of TDM and we’ll send you one, free postage worldwide. Also, never miss a post again (‘cause you’ll get ‘em in your inbox) and access our subscriber-only posts, namely the coveted Bandcamp Basement feature. You get a free trial if you want to test the waters first. And of course you can just be a free subscriber forever, sans bag or subscriber-only posts, but you’ll get the inbox action anyway. Your call. We love you all the same. Get on it: