Review by Dominik on May 1, 2026.

You hail from Britain. And you name your album "Satanic Scum Punks". So what can you reasonably expect? In my humble opinion, there are only two ways this can go. Either the band drowned in their own national sense of dry, self-aware British humor and recorded some kind of satanic parody of the latest Sabaton release that grins more than it bites. Or it exactly delivers on its promise and throws together the grit and dirt of scum punk with black metal elements that swagger more than they blast.

I was very much hoping for the latter and nearly choked on my muesli when the needle dropped. Out of nowhere, there's heavy metal riffing and even a hint of Iron Maiden inspired melody creeping in. For a brief, unsettling moment, everything sounds… competent. Respectable, even. My first thought: yes, "It's Fucking Dark" indeed and my worst fears materialized. Thankfully, that distress survives for about forty seconds and this gleeful presentation of British humor abruptly discontinues, when the song erupts into something that makes a lot more sense. There are basic, punk-infused riffs crashing in, which are backed by a solid, no-nonsense rhythm section, while the vocalist goes into full black-metal-feral menace. The production hits with enough weight to make it feel like you're being sonically run over rather than gently inconvenienced. Each instrument is trying to physically shove you out of the room.

With the title track, we get the first early highlight of the release. It comes across like some unholy hybrid between Danish Halshug, (which is a crust / punk band, should anyone know them.), Polish Mordhell, and early Impaled Nazarene. Like most of the album, also "Satanic Scum Punks" is a simple, very memorable and effective piece of abrasive noise in the bluntest way possible. Grooving midtempo collides with frantic blasting, while the vocals sound like someone gargling gravel and bad intentions. All delivered with the subtlety of bad news over a loudspeaker and handled with the delicacy of a sledgehammer in a glass factory, which, to be fair, seems entirely intentional.

"Let The Bastards Burn" keeps the formula intact and serves up a groove that's weirdly infectious and borderline catchy. There's a certain inherent nostalgia, like a drunken nod to the past, complete with those primitive vocal exclamations that feel ripped from a time when restraint was considered a personal weakness (just listen to the numerous Hellhammer inspired "uuhhhs"). The song is driven by merciless double bass and towards the end surprises with something that dares to resemble a solo. The musical approach is set in stone at this point, and the band shows no intention of deviating. This means latest by the time you hit track four, the deal is sealed. Either you're in, grinning like you've just discovered a new form of musical vandalism, or you're already drafting a scathing low-score review and a rant about artistic decline in your head.

As I clearly ended up in the former camp, you'll have to continue enduring my written drooling. Is there anything deviating from the "norm"? Slightly. "Blood On Steel" doesn't relent in terms of vocal performance, but shows a certain lightness in the musical foundation, until it doesn't and erupts into another maelstrom of aggressiveness. "Drink For Hell" practically demands audience participation. It begs you to grab a few beers, leave your dignity at the door and shout along like your life depends on it. "Fuck The Bastards" shows the band's aversion to the numerous bastards around us. It does exactly what the title suggests, functioning as a loud, unapologetic middle finger to…well, pretty much everyone.

What makes the album work is also what limits it. It's simple. Very simple. Everything here is stripped down to the bare essentials. The riffs are as basic as they come, and the structures are straightforward. The whole thing is built for immediate impact. I keep comparing the release to fast-food. It is greasy, satisfying, and not something you'd necessarily want to analyze too deeply, because thinking too much would probably ruin it. It doesn't try to be clever, which is probably its smartest move. And for the statisticians among you: counting how often the f-word appears might be the closest thing this record has to a conceptual layer. In the end you'll either love "Satanic Scum Punks" or hate it. There's not much room for polite indifference here.

Rating: 8 out of 10, because the album does exactly what its title promises. The band developed a formula and sticks to it with stubborn conviction. The release is way too entertaining to dismiss, even when it probably should be.

Review by Alex on February 14, 2020.

That's probably the one thing most metalheads like about metal and what keeps us coming back is that, regardless of what we've heard and how good we may think it is or may have been, beyond it, somewhere just a blink away, is a record that is better than your last best find just waiting to be dusted off and given the ritual-treatment for a spin on the turntable. Darkestrah put out Epos approximately 13 years ago as their 3rd full-length, here now in 2020 it reemerges in the line of sight for those who dare sit docile as its black waves' currents pull you beyond the safety of the seashore. Would you believe black metal could be so harsh yet so beautiful at the same time; if no, take a chance and listen to the wails of a submerged soul trapped by the beauty of things condemned beneath the sea. Sparkling with glory and delight, yet within its bosom of pleasures lies a beast whose siren bedazzles the ear and entrances the soul. From waltzing in its world of wonders to being just another thing stuck between its monstrous teeth but still struck and stunned by awe as you are being devoured, your essence is now but a star lost to the infinity of the deep. Postured as an epic black metal undertaking, Epos as a full length seems like laughter and giggles to the weary attempts of other bands trying desperately to achieve even a speck of relevance while toiling in vain to sound interesting, only to be defeated by an entity not even remotely bothered, much more aware of their presence.

To the sounds folk metal, warring pagan black metal machinery and the elegance of melodies sounding as though they were crafted by an outcast village witch, in just above 33 minutes tells of Darkestrah's patience with music and their elder-esque handling of forces familiar to many but mastered by few. Just as the sea is with humongous waves pushing intrusively upon the shore at its tidal peak, this one song builds a momentum ever intensifying taking the listener from a passive state to one of sudden dread that builds from its whispering malice to a fluorescent burst of Scandanivian black conflagration. Vocals tear, riffs play in fiery dance with the blast of the snare, altogether with a melody that both swings a sword admonishing onlookers and afflicting those daring enough to stand in the path of its manic yet magical display.

Soulful black metal is perhaps the best phrase one could apply to Darkestrah's work on Epos. Offering just enough to keep the replay button activated as the listener hopes to fetch something new in its net cast into this sea of mystifying yet dangerous tranquility. Risen to provide a lot more than just the average landscapes or to be consistent, seascapes, Darkestrah's folky water-work has brought us Epos, a 33-minute sonic oceanic rapture. Irresistible entropy, enlightenment all the same, an enveloping encore.

Rating: 9 out of 10