For those feeling incredibly nostalgic for the name of this seductively villainous metalcore band, I can't say I blame you. In the Elder Scrolls universe, Balmora is a familiar name that means "stonewood" in the native tongue of Dunmer, or Dark Elves. It’s a fitting moniker for a fictional city defined by its harsh, monolithic architecture and brooding atmosphere, and an even better one for the Connecticut five-piece currently standing as the nominal district seat of the modern metalcore revival. Much like the fiercely loyal, borderline obsessive fandom that surrounds Morrowind (2002) lore, Balmora has cultivated a rabid, cult-like worship within the hardcore underground. They have become the ultimate standard-bearers in a scene defined by a massive wave of late-90s and early-2000s "angel statue" metalcore nostalgia.
In the press release, guitarist Jay Torblaa described this musical collision, stating that they instrumentally wanted the record to sound like a hybrid of Some Of Us May Never See the World (2003) by On Broken Wings and Unhallowed (2003) by The Black Dahlia Murder. Indeed, as you gnaw and claw through the rotten flesh, pus-like slough, and warm blood of These Graven Walls, the word "metalcore" will undoubtedly flash through your mind, but he band's promotional materials also reveal further inspirations and influences of Balmora's debut—even as Paul Cole of the erstwhile underground sweethearts Since My Beloved takes over vocal responsibilities from previous member Senti. Take bassist Danny Cuneo’s hoodie, which dons the freshly defunct Glasgow hardcore stalwarts Nothin’ But Enemies, or Cole’s Immortal crewneck—a piece that would fetch hundreds from online kvltists if it were listed on eBay. It proves that These Graven Walls will continue to enthrall Hardcore audiences Balmora has been playing to since 2023, even as they freely display their traditional black metal roots on their sleeves.
The single "Moon Light Hysteria" stands as the crown jewel of this approach. Tried-and-trve blast beats pummel like a werewolf tearing through the sacred spires of an 18th-century cathedral, while brittle, melodic guitar motifs burst through like a vampire soaring across star-freckled skies. These elements, paired with poetic diatribes of sacrifice and submissive subjugation, is also punctuated by beatdown-esque breakdowns to the likes of Bay Area new blood's Outta Pocket, who Balmora have toured with. It also doesn't hurt that the track's title sounds like something Maniac would have dreamt up for Mayhem's Chimera (2004).
It is a generic friction Balmora have been championing since 2023's With Thorns of Glass and Petals of Grief, only now, there is a desperate, collective drive to push the sound into entirely new territory. If you've been a fan of seminal LPs, such as A Doorway To Elsewhere (1999) by Jane or Jaula (2008) by Candy Cane, that successfully bridge these two worlds while maintaining the distinct characteristics of each, then this album will surely hit like ash yams and horker meat do for a Dunmer in Skyrim (2011).