Just like basically every other genre, doom and stoner have been having a grand old time in the first two months of 2026. For them, it maybe manifested in less quantity than quality but that's a really good thing for genres known for repetition. Instead, we got a few stand out, unique albums in the first two months of 2026, which spurred us to write some pretty long reviews. Which hey, makes sense considering how long some of these releases are!
Bad jokes aside, it really has been a pleasure diving into the lower and slower side of things this year. Let us take you on a quick tour of our favorite releases in the space; you won't regret the ride.
All aboard! It's Doomsday!
Ingrina - Nåværende Lys
Ingrina’s 2018 debut Etter Lys caught my ear with the French quintet’s unique take on atmospheric post-metal. At times more post-hardcore–leaning, fluid, and expeditious than the genre is typically known for, Ingrina also found compelling ways to weave in touches of doomgaze and industrial music, creating a perfect “I can’t quite put my finger on it” concoction. Their 2020 follow-up, Siste Lys, reinforced their status as one of the more interesting acts in the genre with a darker, more atmospheric bend. Now, eight years after this whole thing started, the band returns with Nåværende Lys, a wholly satisfying conclusion to this trilogy (for more on this concept, go nerd out on their website).
The best things about this band haven’t changed. They have a flawless sense of push and pull in their songcraft. Delicate, luminous passages are complemented by devastating darkness; minimalist moments feel both foundational and climactic; density and intensity ebb and flow in ways that are unpredictable but never rushed. Their momentum builds and dissipates with an ease I find uncommon among their contemporaries. Rarely do I feel the length of an individual track on Nåværende Lys—instead, I feel the arc of the album itself, a testament to the band’s engaging songwriting and thoughtful sequencing. It’s just difficult for me to approach this record as anything other than a complete listening experience.
“Time” sets the tone well for Nåværende Lys: soaring guitars, intricately layered builds, blast beat–peppered climaxes, and ghostly vocals that function more as instrumental accents than focal points. Beneath it all, a meaty rhythm section with growling bass and utterly fucking massive drums anchors the band’s atmospheric sweep. Elsewhere, the guitars in “Grips” dazzle with cascading delays or loops that gradually evolve into something like birdcall communication, as if they’re signaling to one another across a vast wilderness before being pushed out by a sudden swell of volume and intensity.
This frequent intermingling of the “organic” (simple, warm, or natural sounds) and “chaotic” (by way of electronic touches in synths, and maybe some programmed drums, too?) feels downright Ulver-ian at times (for their most electronic-forward offering, see: “Laws”). More often, though, these electronic touches serve as a compelling counterpoint to the sludgy heft of their post-metal roots. The closing minutes of “Loosen” offer another notable moment, where a stretch of minimalist quiet is suddenly overtaken by an immense surge that grows, mutates, and ultimately collapses into a cathartic finale. They seem to pounce at an opportunity to find a way, an angle, a trick, to catch a listener’s ear, and for whatever reason I’m always (and gladly) getting pulled along for more.
Ultimately, Nåværende Lys is post-metal with a rare sense of urgency, one that lends tension to every atmospheric passage. You’re never quite sure when—or more importantly how—a resolution will arrive. With this, Ingrina create an immense sense of scale and scope, their intensity seamlessly fusing with atmosphere and a vivid sense of world-building. The result feels like both a culmination and a refinement of everything Ingrina has been building toward with this trilogy, and for that I’m giving them some “hell yeah” bonus points because it’s a hell of an accomplishment—and a rewarding experience in its own right. It’s a young year, but this is hands-down my standout post-metal release of the year.
-JJ
Ennui - Qroba
Aside from its length, about the only thing I enjoy about February is how excellently it pairs with a good wallow.
Enter Georgian (the country, not the state) funeral doom purveyors Ennui, whose latest lengthy load of lamentation proved an excellent mood piece for the dreariest of months.
Ennui largely stick to the expected funerary playbook, but do so exuding quality and forlorn majesty with every plod and pummel. Balancing crushing mass and cavernous, spacious void through a combination of thoughtful songwriting and meticulous production, every beat and lick feels essential, and Ennui have the very necessary gift of making 15 minute songs feel half their length or shorter, standing shoulder to shoulder with subgenre greats like Ahab, The Eternal and Clouds.
Of particular note are the truly cavernous vocals emitted by vocalist David Unsaved, whose earth-shaking roars are in danger of re-establishing definitions of vocal bedrock. Very well executed guitar work largely carries these mammoth songs to just about where you expect, but some interesting local flair shows up starting on mid-album centerpiece “Decima” with the incorporation of panduri and some kind of pipes (although I couldn’t find these credited anywhere so perhaps they are of a synthesised persuasion), dragging me by the heartstrings to the song’s grandiose climax.
I find myself generally least engaged on penultimate dirge “Down, to the Stars”. Any actual ennui is quickly effaced by closer “Mokvda Mze” though, which truly brings the albums greatest qualities together to craft a masterwork of despondency. Especially on this track, the use of the panduri lifts proceedings to a new level while dragging me down, down, to the depths of delicious despair. It’s probably my favorite funeral doom since anything off The Eternal’s Waiting for the Endless Dawn, and I truly hope Ennui continues in this vein and keeps incorporating the panduri to this effect. It works incredibly well.
I’m not sure I’ll spin this as much when the sun comes out again, but come the next season of despair I know Ennui will have my back once again, in the face of the dying of the light.
-Boeli Krumperman
Gavran - The One Who Propels
Back in 2024, I stumbled on Gavran’s Indistinct Beacon (which itself was released in 2022) and thought it was good. I didn’t end up writing about it for the blog but I spent a few good weeks listening to its doom-y goodness. When Gavran’s name then began to pop up in my circles late last year/early this one, I was expecting more of the same - good doom that would spend some time in my spin list before giving way to other things. Instead, I found a band transformed, building on the already solid foundations of their past releases (which also include Amenra and Throwing Bricks) to make something special and incredibly evocative.
The One Who Propels is the exact kind of doom that I like today. Instead of cavernous and distorted, it is emotive, bright and, most importantly, varied, using its vast tapestry to paint a wide range of emotions. All of these are expressed and brought forth by heaviness, to be sure; the Gavran sound still includes low, long chords, crashing cymbals, and full-throated vocals. But there’s more space to the sound, less of the sludgy thickness that the previous release had and more chromatic scintillation. The result is an album which rings out more than it oppresses, buoying up and out into the ether rather than slamming you into the ground. For me, that’s what makes great doom today - a feeling of elation which runs through The One Who Propels.
I also want to go back to those vocals. While it is true that the main vocal mode on the album is that full throated, bell-like clean singing, there’s also this style of high-pitched screams that I absolutely adored. They tend to be used right at the peak of the noisier parts of the album, before a track collapses into melancholic passages that are quieter and sadder. This is a brilliant use of their energies, as the high-strung vocals raise the tension only for those forces to crash on the more somber, darker parts of the album. This structure is used again and again on the release to great effect, creating a lot of tension and momentum throughout.
Overall, The One Who Propels is a fantastic release and certainly the stand out album in terms of doom in the first quarter of 2026 for me. I come back to it again and again for both its peaks and its valleys, its screams and intonations, its deep riffs and tear-drenched chords, for everything that makes doom the genre that we know and love.
-EK
Weedpecker - V
Maybe I’m just picky, or maybe it’s that Weedpecker is truly a rarity in the heavy psych scene. Listeners have their pick of bands willing to take you on an auditory journey somewhere, but what’s often missing is the carefree feeling of truly getting lost. It could be the increasing number of grays on my head talking, but the ride is just as important as the destination, and every step of the way here is as engaging as you want it to be.
The Polish gentlemen of Weedpecker seem to have a grasp of this, and are the most excellent of sonic sherpas, patiently guiding listeners through some lush, dynamic, and colorful environments that unfold at their own pace. Where progressive metal often dazzles through overwhelming, elaborate, and constantly changing arrangements, Weedpecker immerse their listeners with restraint, letting ideas breathe, and trusting in their own momentum.
That confidence extends to their gossamer vocals, present and effective, but delivered in a way that allows the freeflowing instrumentation and songwriting to carry as much emotional weight. Through a swath of moods, it’s a calming, almost sage-like voice that serves to guide listeners through their colorful and surreal sonicscape, from the serene and meditative to the kinetic and and back again.“Fading Whispers” drifts in amidst washes of synth that brush across the ears like a warm breeze before the band locks into a signature mellow-yet-punchy groove. As much as the melody catches the ear, it’s texturally rich music, too. I’ll be honest, the more I feel like a dust particle floating through a sunbeam, the better, and Weedpecker’s got me full-on floating throughout V.
This sense of surrender makes how Weedpecker manage their momentum all the more important—and impressive. Standout “Mirrors” caters to their heavier side, anchored with some curiously catchy vocal delivery. Its busy and playful, seemingly simple but delightfully shifty, creating motion with tasteful tom flourishes and harmonies, eventually finding a raucous climax. Though heavy moments are threaded throughout, V is a decidedly lighter adventure. Psychedelic condiments of sitar-like tones, synthy woodwinds and strings, and oodles of shimmery layers keep their palette broad and provide an environment for guitars to move fluidly.
The dreamy, melodic leads and complementary hefty riffs will inevitably draw some Elder comparisons—though Weedpecker’s approach feels a touch more in tune with delivering atmosphere than riffitude. “Ash” opens with a paisley-tinted retro glow that dodges cliché, naturally evolving from ambient psych ambience into uplifting, riff-driven propulsion. Similarly, “In the Dark We Shine” has a no-tricks-just-treats approach with a truly drippy synth-forward number that weirdly brings to mind the sun-soaked textures of 311’s “Stealing Happy Hours” (No joke! Happy belated 311 Day, by the way).
By the time closer “The Last Summer of Youth” hits, the album has already dealt so many euphoric hits that their mesh of heavy and light almost become something else entirely. It’s like an audio olo—there’s a familiarity and understanding of where the “heavy” and “psych” worlds collide in V, but how they hit is just different, creating an space that’s truly a joy to get lost in.
-JJ