If you think metal can’t be over-the-top, think again—because symphonic black metal is here to prove you wrong. Imagine a haunted house where the ghosts aren’t just spooky, they’re downright theatrical. Candelabras? Check. Face paint? Absolutely. A choir that sounds like it was summoned from the depths of a nightmare? Why not? This subgenre, born in the early ’90s as a whimsical antidote to the gore-soaked death metal of the time, is all about embracing the campy, the grandiose, and the utterly ridiculous. It’s the kind of music that makes you feel like you’re battling Dracula on a spiral staircase—and loving every minute of it. But here’s where it gets controversial: is this genre a masterpiece of theatrical excess or a guilty pleasure that’s one step away from becoming a parody of itself? And this is the part most people miss: it’s both, and that’s what makes it so irresistible.
Enter Worm, the Florida-based project that’s been redefining what it means to be gloomy and grandiose. Initially a solo endeavor by Phantom Slaughter (aka Nicholas Radelat), Worm has evolved dramatically since 2022 with the addition of Wroth Septentrion (Philippe Tougas). Together, they’ve transformed the band into a shrieking, symphonic black metal powerhouse. Wroth’s resume reads like a who’s who of boundary-pushing metal—from the alien tech-death of Chthe’ilist to the ornate funeral doom of Atramentus. With Necropalace, their latest release on Century Media, Worm has fully embraced their inner vampire, delivering a suite of songs that are as extravagant as they are indulgent.
But don’t think for a second that Worm is trying to sound ‘realistic.’ They’re leaning into the artificiality of the genre, and it’s glorious. Tracks like ‘Halls of Weeping’ open with cheeky, pumpkin-lit choirs before descending into sludgy marches, while ‘The Night Has Fangs’ features a dueling harpsichord and guitar bridge that soars like a bat out of hell. This is proggy metal at its most unapologetic—songs average around 10 minutes, and Marty Friedman (yes, that Marty Friedman) even makes a 14-minute cameo on ‘Witchmoon: The Infernal Masquerade.’ But here’s the kicker: for all its melodrama, Necropalace sometimes feels like it’s playing it safe. Sure, there are moments of brilliance—like the Opeth-inspired acoustic bridge on the title track or the sabre-clashing sounds straight out of ‘The Gates of Delirium’—but the formula starts to feel, well, formulaic. It’s fun, but is it groundbreaking? That’s up for debate.
And this is where you come in: Is symphonic black metal a genre that thrives on its predictability, or does it need to break free from its own conventions? Does Worm’s Necropalace push the envelope far enough, or is it too comfortable in its own theatricality? Let’s hear it—agree, disagree, or just tell us your favorite over-the-top metal moment. The comments are yours.
