Review by Carl on March 27, 2025.

Houwitser was formed in the late 90s by (former) Sinister personnel, and since then has seen so many members coming and going that I somewhat suspect the criteria for joining the band is being able to spell the words 'death' and 'metal' correctly. You nail that, you're in. Now, the thing with lineup changes is that it comes with often long periods of seeming inactivity, and Sentinel Beast (a nod to the eponymous 80s thrash band?) indeed comes after a long period of silence, and honestly, it was damn well worth the wait.

This album sees the return of original vocalist Mike, also the original Sinister frontman and his demonic growling is just a joy to hear when combined with the violent and shit-heavy death metal the band has on offer. The band still combines fast blasting sections with heavy midtempo thundering stomp, while fluid death metal riffing and ripping guitar leads place a bloodred cherry right on top of this throbbing extreme music cake. The band grabs deep into their bag of influences to pull out elements of prime Cannibal Corpse, Deicide, and (not all that surprising) early Sinister, creating a solid slice of death metal that sounds very familiar, but with enough of a face of its own to come out thoroughly convincing. Well, convinced I am for sure, and let me be buggered with cucumber if other old-school brutal deathbangers don't find anything of value in here as well.

The execution on here is absolutely spot on, and as a whole the album boasts a powerful production that sounds contemporary, without being overproduced, giving the music lots of space to breathe freely. Houwitser avoids the near-lethal trap of sterile and plastic sound engineering, managing to create a monstrously heavy musical offering, firmly rooted in old-school aggression, with a subtle hint of technicality in the guitar work. This music crushes skulls the old-fashioned way, doing it without sounding antiquated.

This is a return in style. Despite yet another shake-up within the band, Houwitser still sounds the way they've always done. These guys are experienced in the art and it shows, because everything sounds totally killer, with an added familiar feel to boot. If the concept of old-school brutality isn't lost on you, go check this out immediately, it would be a screaming shame if you missed out.

Rating: 8 out of 10

Review by Dominik on September 17, 2025.

If I had to pin Membaris down with just two words, they would be "endurance" and "perseverance". For over twenty years the band has been hovering in that strange twilight zone where the motto seems to be "almost there", "just shy of a breakthrough", or "you can hear the talent, but…". They seem always circling the gates of greatness, never quite storming through. The band has consistently shown promise, but I've long felt that Membaris lacks that elusive "something" that would push their records over my personal threshold of 80/100, which separates a "good" record from a "must-hear" category.

"Black Plasma Armour" doesn't break the pattern, until, disturbingly, it does. This is one of those rare albums in my collection that constantly drives me to the brink of madness. Few albums I recall swing so wildly between "is this mediocre?" and "holy hell, this is brilliant". On Monday it feels run-of-the-mill, and I shrug it off. On Tuesday I wonder how I could have missed the inspired passages tucked inside the songs and am floored by sections I swear I hadn't heard before. By Wednesday I'm not even sure I listened to the same record at all. If that sounds confusing, it's because it is, and that's part of the charm, or maybe the curse. If nothing else, Membaris has found a way to make gaslighting into an art form.

Let me start with the easy part: the songs that impressed me right away. "Onwards To The Last Blink Of Reason" stands out immediately. The bass around the 1:40 mark rumbles in a way that recalls Bölzer, giving the track extra weight and reminds you that string instruments can sound like wild animals when handled correctly. The music mirrors its bleak lyrics, surging forward with manic aggression before pulling back into melodic reprieves. These are brief moments where the listener can reflect on the insignificance of human existence. Midway through, clean vocals appear, quoting Schopenhauer, before the song crashes back into urgency. It's a convincing mix of madness and philosophy, in other words: pure black metal existentialism. Probably just what your therapist warned you about.

"N.O.V.A." is another highlight, and the only song performed in German, which makes everything sound ten times more accusatory. At nine minutes, it's a beast of shifting dynamics. The opening minutes are relentless, building like there's no tomorrow, before slowing into a riff that oscillates between reflective and accusing. A short acoustic interlude interrupts the flow, only for the band to slam the gas again. The vocals follow suit, switching between despairing shrieks and guttural growls, painting a picture of someone screaming at the universe, then immediately realizing the universe doesn't care. Which is, of course, very German. Towards the end the song winds down in a doomy crawl. Think of it as the apocalypse in acts.

"Threshold Of Dystopia" lives up to what the title promises. The band sounds as though they're standing at the edge of a collapsing world, peering into the abyss of a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Especially the vocal performance is gripping. It moves between hopelessness, frustration, and despair. Both musically and lyrically, it's easy to immerse yourself in this vision of ruin, and Membaris nail the atmosphere completely. So far, so good. But "Black Plasma Armour" also challenges me in ways that are less pleasant.

The title track, which also opens the record, is a prime example. My first thought was "utterly unpredictable". Which sounds like a compliment—after all, nobody wants predictable black metal and to die of boredom. But here, unpredictability often feels like incoherence. It is less creative freedom and more like a drunk driver behind the wheel. The blasting sections work well enough, but the slower parts break the flow and feel stapled on. At the 4:24 mark, a bass solo jumps in from nowhere, without a clear purpose and vision. It is followed by acoustic plucking and spoken words. While each piece might work on its own, together they feel like mismatched puzzle parts forced into the same frame.

"Poet Of Fire" leaves me with similar frustration. It starts promising, but then a short acoustic fragment battles with aggression. In that moment it feels more like two tracks awkwardly stitched together than one unified composition. The tremolos sometimes drift into generic territory. The varied vocal tones—clean vocals, followed by a more imploring, desperate, and everything in between pitch—are strong, but they can't disguise the lack of cohesion.

And that's really the story of "Black Plasma Armour". There are moments of brilliance, and then there are moments where the band's ambition makes them stumble. Membaris keep circling greatness without quite landing on it. Still, I have to admire their stubbornness. After twenty years, they're still writing, experimenting, and refusing to play it safe. I genuinely hope their next release converts me into a fully-fledged disciple. Membaris deserve that much.

Rating: 7.9 out of 10, because my verdict changes more often than the weather forecast. And the album knows it.