Review by Norbert on December 24, 2025.

Italian trio Shrieking Demons made their full-length debut, perhaps not with a bang, but at least with a solid death metal blast. Their first album, The Festering Dwellers, released this year on Transcending Obscurity Records, is an album that, from the very first notes, harks back to the traditions of old-school death metal—the most earthy, raw, and permeated with an atmosphere of decay. But while this music evokes the spirit of Autopsy, Asphyx, and Cianide, it possesses something more—a kind of emotional charge, an expression. Or an Italian expression? Maybe it was just a coincidence, but I picked up this album immediately after returning from a trip to Sicily and northern Italy. Perhaps it was memories of the hot stones of Syracuse, the heavy humidity of Lake Como, and the dark alleys of Verona that so captivated me—but the album captivated me immediately.

Shrieking Demons hail from Bologna, a city known more for tortellini and the university than death metal, but this album demonstrates that in the shadow of medieval walls, things far darker than learned treatises can flourish. The album's sound evokes classic Autopsy productions—dirty, organic, almost carnal. The guitars aren't clear, but grating and oppressive, the drums aren't sterilely processed, and the vocals sound as if they were recorded in the catacombs beneath the Bologna basilica. The whole thing feels like someone set out to record a soundtrack to an ancient plague—and did so with complete conviction.

The compositions are tight, dynamic, and never let up. 'Abstract Hallucinating' captivates with its edgy melodies and doomy "chorus," while most of 'Awakening From Seculiar Slumber' meanders with the dignity of a funeral procession—not in the manner of funeral doom, but more like a horse-drawn procession through crowded streets. And when 'Apostasy, Sodomy, And Sacrilege' arrives, the album accelerates to the brink of punk fury, reminiscent of early Repulsion, only drenched in a sauce of demonic grotesque.

The production is another strength—the album sounds authentic, as if the band had abandoned digital processing and locked themselves in a basement with analog tape. There's no room for polished sounds here—there's dust, humidity, dripping pipes, and tension. It's all held together by a rough aesthetic: an unpleasant sound yet full of character, like the smell of burnt coffee at five in the morning in a Sicilian bar where the bartender already knows you want a double espresso because that's all there is to it. The cover art is in keeping with the '90s aesthetic, reminiscent of Chris Moyen's work—full of detail, symmetry, and blasphemous grace.

The band doesn't overly try to be original, but they make up for it with consistency and a keen sense of atmosphere. The Festering Dwellers doesn't change the rules of the game, but it does everything to remind us why death metal can be so addictive. This is music that doesn't play with concepts or pretend to be progressive—it kicks in just the right way and leaves its mark. If you're a fan of the classics, if your heart skips a beat at the sound of a dirty riff, and if death metal evokes the taste of hot asphalt and the scent of incense for you, this album will find a home with you. And if, like me, you've just returned from an Italian trip and are trying to sort through your memories of Verona, Catania, and the stops along the way, this album might prove to be the perfect, if somewhat excruciating, guide.

Rating: 8.5 out of 10