Eurovision may continue to disdain Cruachan, but there are still those of us interested in a more authentic image of Ireland than twee riverdancing leprechauns. From day one, Cruachan have been dedicated to instituting a distinctly Irish identity in metal, and even after more than 30 years each album seems to build upon the last with more powerful production and more refined songwriting. Though the band has largely grown away from the purest black metal stylings of its origins into a more melodic heavy metal grounding for all the fiddling and flutes, a great deal of roughness and sourness remain – even the clean vocals and catchiest choruses are abrasive, dark, and equally tragic as celebratory, lest we get too comfortable with all this “luck of the Irish” bullshit and forget that there’s little in the world more brutal than the histories that these songs relate.

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In spite of how prolific E-an-na have seemed, Alveolar is only their second full-length album, and you'd be right to expect that applying that distinction again signals something special. Alveolar has incredible flow: the entire album could be a single song, flinging itself from one impassioned dance to another without a moment's rest. And it could well be E-an-na's most polished and sophisticated work to date, judging by the unassailable cool with which it slides from tango to breakdown, breakdown to tango; it leans heavier on the Romanian folk elements than Nesfârşite and a little lighter on the heaviness, slipping into some reflective ambiance from time to time. It is mostly an incredible energy dump, though: the finger-cramping instrumentation and rapturously multiplicative vocals are deceptively playful, bouncing around giddy choruses with wild freedom, but they're meticulously measured, and the impossible synchronicity they all achieve in mirroring each other is just folk music at its very best.

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What could be further in evil than Bathory? Probably nothing, but we’re three and a half decades too late to nominate Blood Fire Death, so we’ve found the next best candidate and given the honor to Marthe, who makes her fully solo debut with this album. Like those classic masterpieces that codified the concept of “Viking metal” so long ago, Further In Evil roots itself in simple but momentous chords with heroic rhythms, the bloodthirsty eagerness of metal on the cusp of crossing from “heavy” to “extreme”, and touches of Scandinavian folk aesthetics that conjure the mountainsides these riffs seem to be perpetually marching down. For “a ride alone”, this is as complete and portentous a work as it sets out to be, and Marthe’s mastery of the trudging riff and ragged growl will push Further In Evil straight into the black heart of anyone who was awaiting the dawn of a new doombringer.

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If this is How It Ends, then Primordial has nothing to be ashamed about. One of the world’s most well-regarded metal bands digs a hole in the ground, puts a flag in it, gathers some rocks around it, and (allegedly/perhaps/maybe) calls it a day. This is one of few bands with nothing left to prove, yet it proves it can still write epic anthems with unforgettable folk riffs and the ever-present voice of Nemtheanga in songs such as “Ploughs To Rust, Swords To Dust” and “Victory Has 1000 Fathers, Defeat Is An Orphan”. Post-The Gathering Wilderness, and post-To The Nameless Dead, and beyond, Primordial displays a sound that is still very original, very hard-hitting, and very much their own. It is no wonder, then, that this album ended up among our nominations, because the songwriting is excellent, the performance is flawless, and all the feelings Primordial is known for are still all there.

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