If you think metal can't be over-the-top, think again—symphonic black metal is here to prove you wrong. Imagine crafting the ultimate haunted house experience: flickering candelabras, eerie face paint, and a choir that sends shivers down your spine. This is the world of symphonic black metal, a subgenre that emerged in the early ’90s as a whimsical antidote to the gore-soaked death metal of the time. While American bands were reveling in brutality and Norwegian acts were making headlines for all the wrong reasons, symphonic black metal transported listeners to a realm of ghosts, ghouls, and epic battles with Dracula in his sprawling manor. And this is the part most people miss: it’s the tension between its campy excess and grandiose opulence that makes it so captivating, inviting your imagination to fill in the gaps of its larger-than-life visions.
This theatrical flair is precisely what has drawn Worm, a Florida-based project, into its orbit. Known for their malleable aesthetic, Worm has always gravitated toward gloomy atmospherics and the creation of decaying, swampy death-doom landscapes. Originally a solo endeavor by Phantom Slaughter (aka Nicholas Radelat), the project underwent a seismic shift in 2022 with the addition of Wroth Septentrion (Philippe Tougas). Wroth’s eclectic resume—spanning the alien tech-death of Chthe’ilist to the ornate funeral doom of Atramentus—has injected new life into Worm, transforming it into a shrieking symphonic black metal powerhouse. After testing the waters with a handful of EPs, Necropalace marks their full-fledged arrival, complete with a major label deal with Century Media and their most extravagant, vampiric offering yet.
But here's where it gets controversial: while Worm has access to more realistic keyboard orchestras than pioneers like Cradle of Filth and Emperor, they gleefully embrace the subgenre’s artificiality. Tracks like “Halls of Weeping” open with cheeky, pumpkin-lit choirs before descending into sludgy marches, while “The Night Has Fangs” features a breathtaking duel between harpsichord and guitar. The band has never sounded this melodic, thanks in part to Tougas’s dynamic guitar work, which layers solos with a dramatic flair that builds on Radelat’s keyboard melodies. Even former Megadeth guitarist Marty Friedman joins the fray on the 14-minute epic “Witchmoon: The Infernal Masquerade,” trading leads over church organ licks.
Yes, this is indulgent, proggy metal—with songs averaging 10 minutes—but it’s hard not to wonder if Worm could have pushed the boundaries even further. While they avoid the repetitive cycling chords typical of black metal, their riffs occasionally feel overly familiar as they chug along. The title track stands out with its Opeth-inspired acoustic bridge and sword-clashing sound effects, and “Blackheart” mixes things up with a Tiamat-esque gothic stomp and cheesy synths. Yet, most tracks adhere closely to the galloping formula of their chosen genre. It’s undeniably fun, but a formula nonetheless.
Necropalace is a lavish, theatrical journey that revels in its own excess. But here’s the question: does symphonic black metal need to break free from its formulaic roots to stay fresh, or is its campy grandeur precisely what makes it timeless? Let us know your thoughts in the comments—we’re eager to hear where you stand on this divisive subgenre.
