Relic — Crown of Flies Review
Relic is an American blackened death entity. On 3 April 2026, Relic released their debut EP, Crown of Flies, via Malefic Records and promoted via ClawHammer PR.
Relic, Crown of Flies Review: This review will evaluate every aspect of the album, from its intricate musical composition to its production.
The First Three Sins, The Summary
The First Sin, The Strings/Keys: CBuzz-saw riffing and serrated dissonance — a blackened death assault driven by tremolo bursts and concrete, mid-tempo weight. The Second Sin, The Vocals: Venom-spitting dual delivery — throat-shredding rasps and guttural strikes, delivered with pure hostile intent. The Third Sin, The Percussions: Relentless jackhammer percussion — machine-like double-kicks, rapid-fire blasts, and crushing groove shifts at the edge of control.
The Fourth Sin, Overall Discussion
Impact Without Warning
The moment the listener presses play, Crown of Flies greets you with a blistering onslaught that offers no quarter. There is no atmospheric buildup, noinvocation, and nomercy.
From the very first note you are engulfed in a concentrated storm of pure extreme metal. It is an immediate immersion into a soundscape defined by its refusal to go easy on the senses.
Economy of Violence
Crown of Flies is a masterclass in brevity and brutality. Spread across four hymns and clocking just over ten minutes, the record functions as a singular, sustained burst of energy. The devilmanship here is found in the economy of the violence — every second is calculated to maximise impact, leaving no room for filler or hesitation.
It is a sprint through the abyss, a crown forged in the heat of a relentless blackened metal furnace.
Crown of Flies is no walk in the park — it channels a hybrid of death metal and blackened filth, creating a thick, punishing atmosphere that grabs you by the throat, slams your head against a brick wall, and tears at your insides with serrated intent.
The lyrical content of Crown of Flies is every bit as brutal as the music it inhabits. There is no poetry to be found here, no metaphorical veil to soften the blow. Instead, the listener is met with raw, hostile imagery delivered in short, venom-spitting phrases that hit like shrapnel.
Serration & Control
Relic’s devilmanship is tight, brutal, and utterly unrelenting. From the first hymn onward, this mechanical violence refuses to let go. There is no slack in the performance; every transition is handled with a surgical aggression that suggests a band in total control of their chaos. The guitars are the primary instruments of punishment, utilising a thick, buzz-saw rhythm tone that carries the weight of a death metal furnace.
The riff craft is a calculated hybrid:
- Serrated Dissonance — blackened, dissonant intervals that grate against the senses, providing the filth in the atmosphere.
- Violent Tremolo Bursts — short, explosive flares of speed that mimic the swarming feeling of the Crown of Flies.
- Concrete Grooves — mid-tempo sections that feel like concrete blocks dropping — heavy, rhythmic, and final.
It is a sound that feels both prehistoric and industrial, a blackened death blade that has been sharpened on a gravestone and utilised with modern rhythmic precision.
Concrete & Collapse
The bass feels thick, black, and suffocating. It does not just provide a foundation; it coats the entire composition in a layer of impenetrable grime. It moves with a sluggish, predatory intent that makes the high-speed buzz-saw guitars feel even more frantic, creating a sense of claustrophobia that is essential to the experience.
The drums are a relentless jackhammer battery, offering no mercy to the listener’s equilibrium. Defined by mechanical violence — machine-like double-kick patterns that vibrate at the edge of control, bone-cracking snares — sharp and dry — and rapid-fire blasts that border on chaos, before shifting into groove sections that stomp with the weight of a steel-toed boot.
Voice as Weapon
The vocals provide the final, agonising layer. They tear through the lyrics and music with a wire-burned, venom-spitting intensity. The delivery is a dual-threat assault with throat-shredding rasps that feel like they have been dragged through thorns, venomous deep growls, and punched bark — short, aggressive phrases delivered with the impact of a physical strike, ensuring the serrated intent of the record is felt in every syllable.
Bunker-Born Sound
This is not a home-studio project or a polished professional affair; it sounds as though it were recorded in a concrete bunker, mixed with bloodied hands, and mastered with zero concern for the listener’s comfort.
It is ten minutes of American blackened death metal violence captured with absolute intent — a sonic document of pure, unadulterated hostility.
The Sudden Stop
The album does not fade, and it does not resolve. It comes to a halt like hitting a brick wall — there is no softness and no easing out. It is a sudden, jarring stop that leaves the listener bruised, breathless, and feeling as though a meat grinder has mangled your body.
The silence that follows is not a relief; it is the ringing in the ears after a catastrophic impact.
Measured Brutality
Overall, Crown of Flies is a claustrophobic, brutal, and suffocating forbidden fruit of art. It is a record that is emphatically not for the faint of heart. By maintaining a serrated intent through both the lyrical delivery and the concrete bunker production, Relic has created a ten-minute experience of pure, unadulterated blackened death violence.
The Fifth Sin, The Memorabilia
For me, Crown of Flies is more than just blackened death metal; it is a brutal, decaying ten-minute experience. It meets every requirement for my archive: it is dissonant, punishing, relentless, sick, and beautifully chaotic. It is memorabilia because it captures the pure, unfiltered essence of the void in a concentrated burst that never overstays its welcome.
The Sixth Sin, The Artwork
The artwork crowns the EP in pure decay — a spiked, rust-eaten diadem lowered onto a corpse-head, swarmed by flies, perfectly mirroring Relic’s blackened, flesh-stripping sound.
The Seventh Sin, Disrelish
There is no disrelish to be found within Crown of Flies. The four hymns and ten-minute runtime are exactly enough. Any longer and the intensity might diminish; any shorter and the ritual would feel incomplete. It is a perfectly measured dose of American blackened death violence.The Hymns
01. The Void Between Gods
02. Filth Of Rebirth
03. Scavengers Daughter
04. Iron Sacrament
Relic
Kevin Forsythe — Guitar, Bass
Jeff Plewa – Vocals
Alex “Pulverizer” Pulvermacher – Drums
Vinny Alvarez – Guitar
