Welcome back my fellow black metalheads, Sean here at the Black Metal Archives, and tonight I’m fucking reeling from Wolves In Exile’s Frost and Ruin. I cranked this bastard at midnight, windows rattling, and nearly kicked my fucking desk in half—it’s that goddamn good. Dropped January 10, 2020, via UKEM Records, this seven-track beast is the only full-length from these UK frostlords—Gary Powell (guitar, vocals) dreaming it up before an unfortunate car crash took his life, with Bruce Powell (bass, vocals) and Tom Warren (drums, vocals) bringing it to life. Tied to Deadwood Lake’s grim saga, this is atmospheric black metal with a fantasy edge that’s got me roaring into the void—let’s tear this motherfucker apart!
Wolves In Exile clawed out of the UK in the wake of tragedy—Gary Powell’s vision born before his 2015 passing, carried on by his brother Bruce and mate Tom, both Deadwood Lake vets. This ain’t their first rodeo, but it’s their only full gallop, a 2020 debut that screams from the shadows.
“Frozen Underworld” kicks this shit off like a warhorn in a blizzard, guitars slashing through my skull with icy, melodic fury. Gary’s riffs—finished by the living—carry this haunting, heroic vibe, while Bruce’s vocals snarl like a frost giant on the rampage. Tom’s drums are a fucking tempest, blasting and rolling with savage precision, and the bass growls deep, anchoring the chaos. It’s a plunge into a fantasy hellscape that’s got me gripping my chair, ready to storm some ancient gates—fucking epic from the first note.
“The Night Madness” keeps the fire blazing, and holy shit, it’s got my blood pumping like a berserker’s vein. The guitars weave this sinister, galloping melody—think Tolkien meets a Norwegian winter—while the vocals rip through, raw and unhinged. The drums pound like a horde charging into battle, and I’m right there, swinging an axe in my mind, screaming along to this nocturnal insanity. It’s fast, it’s fierce, and it’s fucking alive.
“Mirror And Prophecy” slows the pace but cranks the weight—this track’s a goddamn beast that hits me like a warhammer to the chest. The guitars churn out these thick, mournful riffs, dripping with symphonic grandeur, while Bruce’s voice howls with prophetic rage. Tom’s kit shifts gears, rolling with a hypnotic fury, and the bass thunders beneath, making this a sonic saga that’s got me staring into some cursed fucking glass, lost in its depth.
“The Ancient Red Lake” is where I fucking lose it—a standout that shreds my soul apart. The guitars soar with this majestic, frostbitten melody—sharp as a blade, cold as death—while the vocals snarl and soar, painting blood across a frozen shore. The drums blast with relentless might, and the bass rumbles like the earth splitting open. It’s got this cinematic sweep that makes me wanna charge into some mythic war, and I’m banging my head ‘til my neck’s raw—pure fucking bliss.
“The Freezing Rest” drags me into a chilling abyss, guitars weaving this slow, atmospheric haze that’s got me swaying like a corpse in the wind. The vocals cut deep, raw and pained, while the rhythm section—Tom and Bruce—lays down a foundation that’s heavy as fuck. It’s a breather that still kicks my ass, a frozen lullaby I can’t shake.
“River Of Thorns” closes this bastard out, and fuck me, it’s a finale that rips my heart out. The guitars blaze with melodic fire—symphonic as hell, brutal as sin—while the vocals howl like a warrior’s last stand. The drums and bass lock in, driving this beast to a triumphant, gut-wrenching end, and I’m left wrecked, fists raised, screaming into the night.
Wolves In Exile’s sound on Frost and Ruin is a goddamn warchest—Gary’s guitars, carried on by Ryan Wills, are a storm of icy riffs and heroic melodies, while Bruce’s bass is the deep, pulsing blood that keeps me raging. Tom’s drums are a fucking onslaught, blasting with martial fury, and the vocals—Bruce and Gary’s legacy—are the raw, beating soul, dripping with frost and fire. Synths sprinkle in, adding that symphonic punch that lifts this shit to the heavens. In the black metal genre, these fuckers stride with the atmospheric titans—Saor’s epic sweep, Moonsorrow’s grandeur—but they’ve got a fantasy-driven edge that’s pure Summoning or Caladan Brood, raw and unpolished. This album’s a fucking journey, a battle cry from beyond the grave that’s got me hooked—crank it loud, let it rip, and join me in this icy goddamn ruin.
You beautiful fucks reading this, tell me in the comments how this album wrecked you—I wanna hear your war stories! You can blast the full album on Bandcamp, so get your ass over there and dive into the frost!
Stay grim, you filthy bastards, and keep the black flame burning!
