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MAJESTIC RYTE
Majestic Ryte

Sonic Age (2023)
Rating: 9/10

This debut full-length offering from Long Island, New York-based metallers Majestic Ryte is quite the surprise; an immediately soulful, powerhouse of record that sounds like something found in the dusty archives of 1988. And do you know why that is? Well, in 1988 these guys released their self-titled debut EP; a nifty gem of a record that got swallowed up in the cauldron occupied by the countless other doom-laden metal acts of the time. Decades later there is still a chance that this self-titled return might go under the radar too, but hopefully this review will help their cause because this record is an absolutely astounding slab of molten glory and one that sounds as if it was originally recorded in the 80s, shelved, and then brought back to life.

To put it simply, if you want fog-ridden power metal with booming vocals then this is the record to get your hands on. Greg Tsaknakis (vocals), Nick Trotti (guitar), John Funk (bass) and Tom Sauer (drums) construct mighty plateaus of steel where the vocals have a fluidity and prowess, almost caressing the grandiose riffs and stony drums and bass.

How Majestic Ryte have crafted such immense grooves is beyond me. The stone-faced ‘Guardian’ fizzes with axe wizardry but for the most part exists as a doomy ooze – and that’s the magic here. Majestic Ryte brings classic heavy metal so powerful and rich that I’m left scratching my head at its wonder.

Throughout this opus there lingers a menace. ‘Fractured Mind’, ‘Strawman Cometh’, ‘Harbinger Of Chaos’ are a trio of titanic woe-smeared gorgons which run as glinting, sparkling rivers of steel. ‘Lord Of Flies’, however, shifts as a groove machine but never feels too far away from classic Candlemass laced with an early 90s coolness, although with each turn this record hammers hard without ever picking up any pace.

That organic feel showcases a magical chemistry within the line-up, right down to the subtle, mournful stirrings of ‘No Turning Back’ and the juddering ‘Plague Of Athens’. It is as if a blanket of mystical mist has descended over the creation of this album, because while it sparkles with majesty there remains an ominous air that subconsciously delivers it to that soft spot you discovered back in the golden days of heavy metal.

You don’t want to let this one slip through your fingers, so adorn oneself in chainmail and trudge off to find a copy.

Neil Arnold

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