If your band sounds like something you get penicillin for, you're already well underway. Sylosis is a name that screams rash and shingles -- and it turns out to be a kind of stamp of quality.
One star
Two stars
Three stars
Fours stars
Five stars
Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
Already on the first issue came the flames. Large, sweaty columns of fire shot up from the edge of the stage as if hell itself had received technician bracelets. The crowd was on immediately. No heating. Just directly in the moshpit, directly in the panic.
Sylosis plays thrash with surgical precision. Not that kind of nostalgic stadium metal where you stand with draft beer and say “I saw them in '94” -- this is metal that will you something. Which will gash you up and pour molten steel into the wound. And it succeeded.
Josh Middleton looked like a man who had been raging for over a decade and had finally been given the green light to express it for 45 minutes. His vocals were so angry it could scare a middle manager into silence, and his guitar work was almost provocatively clean. Not because it sounded nice, but because it did. true.
“Heavy metal is not a phase. It's a way of life,” he shouted at one point. And you know what? I believed in him. Not because it sounded like a funny t-shirt, but because it was said with the kind of grave-rusty seriousness that only comes from people who have spent more money on amps than vacation.
The cool thing about Sylosis is that they don't try to be more than they are. They are not on TikTok. They're not ironic. They're not here to smile at the camera. They're here to smash Copenhell -- and then travel on to the next town to do it again.
Reflection:
Some concerts change you. Others confirm you. Sylosis did the latter. They confirmed that thrash is still alive. That anger still has value. That metal can still be beautiful precisely because it doesn't try to be. And yes, it must hurt a little the next day.
