Review by JD on March 9, 2018.

Mexican metal can be good at times, so when I was charged with handling the review of doom masters Assyrian, I was excited. Never hearing Mexican doom metal before, I thought that I might be up for something that might be different in ways. I should not let myself hope like this...

On the surface... this does not scream doom metal here, far from it.  I think that they are a frustrated, third rate Nu-death metal band that tried to move over to the doom side of things to kick start a floundering career.  They seem to have some good musicians, but I think they would be better to go back to death. It sounds nice in little spots, but there is a lack of both power and the necessary passion to do some good doom. It seems almost if they are trying to be a doomy version of Opeth mixing with a horrid try at progressive metal as well– but with this sick and weak production no to mention the flaccid guitar sounds,  it just stands out as much as elevator music does.

Tracks like the uninspired 'Colour me' to the useless musical trial of 'Impromptu' show a band pretty much out of their league when it comes down to it.  Sure it has the low droning guitars and guttural vocals on most tracks (left over from their death days I guess) but there is no mistaking that the whole project is uninspired and smacks of a band clutching at straws after not making it in other genres. It is hard to even put into words, just how disappointed I am with this disk... not to mention bored.

As plainly as I can put it to you doom fans out there, just pay no attention to this whole album and reach for some better music (Novembers Doom or perhaps Candlemass come to mind) and use this disk for a better use than listening to. Using it in Skeet shooting would be the route I might go after experiencing this album.  Truly, and album worth not getting... just forget about them, for your sake.  I have...Thank God!!

Rating: 1.5 out of 10

Review by JD on March 9, 2018.

Mexican metal can be good at times, so when I was charged with handling the review of doom masters Assyrian, I was excited. Never hearing Mexican doom metal before, I thought that I might be up for something that might be different in ways. I should not let myself hope like this...

On the surface... this does not scream doom metal here, far from it.  I think that they are a frustrated, third rate Nu-death metal band that tried to move over to the doom side of things to kick start a floundering career.  They seem to have some good musicians, but I think they would be better to go back to death. It sounds nice in little spots, but there is a lack of both power and the necessary passion to do some good doom. It seems almost if they are trying to be a doomy version of Opeth mixing with a horrid try at progressive metal as well– but with this sick and weak production no to mention the flaccid guitar sounds,  it just stands out as much as elevator music does.

Tracks like the uninspired 'Colour me' to the useless musical trial of 'Impromptu' show a band pretty much out of their league when it comes down to it.  Sure it has the low droning guitars and guttural vocals on most tracks (left over from their death days I guess) but there is no mistaking that the whole project is uninspired and smacks of a band clutching at straws after not making it in other genres. It is hard to even put into words, just how disappointed I am with this disk... not to mention bored.

As plainly as I can put it to you doom fans out there, just pay no attention to this whole album and reach for some better music (Novembers Doom or perhaps Candlemass come to mind) and use this disk for a better use than listening to. Using it in Skeet shooting would be the route I might go after experiencing this album.  Truly, and album worth not getting... just forget about them, for your sake.  I have...Thank God!!

Rating: 1.5 out of 10

Review by Dominik on June 2, 2025.

As one of many bands named Beholder (seriously, there's an unofficial support group at this point), this one hails from Canada. And much like their compatriots in Wormwitch, they've decided that the whole black metal Québecois scene is far too gentle and for wimps only. Instead, they’ve delivered a piece of sonic annihilation, an album that only exists to punish you—brutally and without explanation, for sins you probably didn’t even commit.

According to the archives, Beholder started off as a black-thrash commando unit, but here, on Dualisme, the "thrash" is mostly left bleeding in the snow. When it does appear, it's almost accidental—like the band now treats the “thrash” part like an embarrassing ex they’d rather not talk about. What remains is a barrage of black metal that hits with all the elegance and tenderness of a divorce lawyer reading wedding vows. Atmosphere here doesn't mean "mood" in the conventional sense; it means volume, abrasion, and emotional austerity. This is no black metal like something out of a Stephen King novel, where everything looks ok, but something sinister is lurking under the surface. There's no creeping dread, no gothic window dressing, no suggestion of melancholy. Beholder has no interest in subtle horror. Their philosophy seems to be: why whisper when you can scream directly into the void? Subtlety is overrated when you decided to spell AGGRESSION in capital letters.

Like most albums Dualisme isn’t without its flaws. Most notable is the last track, “Credo Fractal”—a track that tries to be a brooding ambient finale, but ends up sounding like a haunted fish tank and closes the album on a limp note. It drags on for five minutes that could've been better spent smashing another riff into your skull. It’s not even offensive—just boring, which might be worse.

Thankfully, most of the rest delivers. The title track is an early highlight. I won’t pretend to know what Beholder’s take on dualism is, but for simplicity’s sake, let’s just say it’s about good and evil—with the emphasis clearly on evil. The song switches from blistering black metal speed to intensive down-tempo sections where the guitars hint at melody—just enough to make you unclench your jaw before the next round of punishment begins.

The heart of the album begins with “Géomancie”, opening in a sleepy manner with a false sense of calm before morphing into some post-black shredding. It then collapses into something that feels more d-beat or black’n’roll than anything thrashy—which doesn´t completely surprise, given most of the members moonlight in a crust-infested side project. Midway, the tremolo takes back over, only to once again give way to mid-tempo stomping. It’s a messy patchwork of different dynamics, but somehow it works. “Hexenaat”, presumably some grim reference to “Witches' Night”, is shorter and more immediate. It’s arguably the most accessible song here—though "accessible" in this context still means your ears might file a workplace hazard report. There’s a brief flash of black thrash toward the end before it's buried under a storm of riffing and relentless drums. It’s the closest thing this album has to a “single”—if by “single” you mean a song that would still clear a party faster than tear gas. The third and final part of this unholy mid-album triptych is “Despotisme Ecclésiastique”, which earns points for its title alone. Fortunately, it also delivers musically, with a memorable riff building up to the chorus. The song even hints at actual atmosphere. Yes, the dreaded a-word. For a moment, Beholder manages to create something more than just hostility—something almost cinematic in its bleakness.

Despite the misfire at the end, “Dualisme” is a tight, focused, and strangely charismatic barrage of black metal misanthropy that embraces its own lack of subtlety with the confidence of a man screaming in a library. Its 35-minute runtime is just enough to make you feel spiritually harassed without pushing it too far. All in all, the album is a rewarding listen for that particularly niche crowd that likes their black metal raw, loud, and emotionally uninhabitable. The vocals, performed in French, do lend a slight elegance to the otherwise savage execution. The production is spartan but effective—just the right amount of dirt and clarity to keep things from either collapsing or sounding too sterile.

Rating: 7.6 out of 10, because it´s far from being a masterpiece, but it´ll make your neighbors move out if needed.

Review by Dominik on June 2, 2025.

As one of many bands named Beholder (seriously, there's an unofficial support group at this point), this one hails from Canada. And much like their compatriots in Wormwitch, they've decided that the whole black metal Québecois scene is far too gentle and for wimps only. Instead, they’ve delivered a piece of sonic annihilation, an album that only exists to punish you—brutally and without explanation, for sins you probably didn’t even commit.

According to the archives, Beholder started off as a black-thrash commando unit, but here, on Dualisme, the "thrash" is mostly left bleeding in the snow. When it does appear, it's almost accidental—like the band now treats the “thrash” part like an embarrassing ex they’d rather not talk about. What remains is a barrage of black metal that hits with all the elegance and tenderness of a divorce lawyer reading wedding vows. Atmosphere here doesn't mean "mood" in the conventional sense; it means volume, abrasion, and emotional austerity. This is no black metal like something out of a Stephen King novel, where everything looks ok, but something sinister is lurking under the surface. There's no creeping dread, no gothic window dressing, no suggestion of melancholy. Beholder has no interest in subtle horror. Their philosophy seems to be: why whisper when you can scream directly into the void? Subtlety is overrated when you decided to spell AGGRESSION in capital letters.

Like most albums Dualisme isn’t without its flaws. Most notable is the last track, “Credo Fractal”—a track that tries to be a brooding ambient finale, but ends up sounding like a haunted fish tank and closes the album on a limp note. It drags on for five minutes that could've been better spent smashing another riff into your skull. It’s not even offensive—just boring, which might be worse.

Thankfully, most of the rest delivers. The title track is an early highlight. I won’t pretend to know what Beholder’s take on dualism is, but for simplicity’s sake, let’s just say it’s about good and evil—with the emphasis clearly on evil. The song switches from blistering black metal speed to intensive down-tempo sections where the guitars hint at melody—just enough to make you unclench your jaw before the next round of punishment begins.

The heart of the album begins with “Géomancie”, opening in a sleepy manner with a false sense of calm before morphing into some post-black shredding. It then collapses into something that feels more d-beat or black’n’roll than anything thrashy—which doesn´t completely surprise, given most of the members moonlight in a crust-infested side project. Midway, the tremolo takes back over, only to once again give way to mid-tempo stomping. It’s a messy patchwork of different dynamics, but somehow it works. “Hexenaat”, presumably some grim reference to “Witches' Night”, is shorter and more immediate. It’s arguably the most accessible song here—though "accessible" in this context still means your ears might file a workplace hazard report. There’s a brief flash of black thrash toward the end before it's buried under a storm of riffing and relentless drums. It’s the closest thing this album has to a “single”—if by “single” you mean a song that would still clear a party faster than tear gas. The third and final part of this unholy mid-album triptych is “Despotisme Ecclésiastique”, which earns points for its title alone. Fortunately, it also delivers musically, with a memorable riff building up to the chorus. The song even hints at actual atmosphere. Yes, the dreaded a-word. For a moment, Beholder manages to create something more than just hostility—something almost cinematic in its bleakness.

Despite the misfire at the end, “Dualisme” is a tight, focused, and strangely charismatic barrage of black metal misanthropy that embraces its own lack of subtlety with the confidence of a man screaming in a library. Its 35-minute runtime is just enough to make you feel spiritually harassed without pushing it too far. All in all, the album is a rewarding listen for that particularly niche crowd that likes their black metal raw, loud, and emotionally uninhabitable. The vocals, performed in French, do lend a slight elegance to the otherwise savage execution. The production is spartan but effective—just the right amount of dirt and clarity to keep things from either collapsing or sounding too sterile.

Rating: 7.6 out of 10, because it´s far from being a masterpiece, but it´ll make your neighbors move out if needed.