Out NOW
Via I Hate Records
Words by: Courtney Stark
Trier is a city in Germany more readily associated with its wine-soaked reputation and its moniker as the ‘second Rome,’ owed to its time as a capital of the Roman Empire in the late 1st century BC. It lays claim to Germany’s oldest church and stands as the birthplace of Karl Marx — a place steeped in history, legacy, and a certain cultural weight. Less readily spoken of, however, is its role as the origin point of Nuctermeron — a quartet dealing in a volatile fusion of speed and black metal, and laced with a heavy swill of the unmistakable influence from Venom, Sodom and Nifelheim.
After forming in 2012, the Trier-based quartet — clad, as expected, in heavy metal’s time-honoured uniform of black leather, studs, and enough bullet belts to complete the picture — wasted little time in making their intentions known. Their first EP, Knights of Hell, was unleashed soon after, breathing life into a rabid fusion of speed and black metal, with a clear nod of reverence to Venom — those who first dragged black metal from its infernal infancy into something more defined, yet no less unholy.
Aptly, Friday the 13th of March 2026 (202666) marked a day where metal in all its forms seemed to erupt in unison, with bands across the spectrum casting their latest works into the void. Among them stood Nuctermeron, as Demonic Sceptre emerged as the band’s first full-length assault — not so much a debut as it is a declaration.
Tracks like The Bat and Under the Devil’s Command lean hard into the band’s speed metal backbone, driving forward with a relentless and maniacal urgency steeped in that raw, hellbent energy. By the time Burn My Skin to Leather tears through the speakers, the band sharpen that aggression into something more commanding, its thrashy backbone carried by raspy, throat-scorching screams and a chorus that feels less sung than demanded, echoing like a ritualistic chant.
Then comes Metallic Thunder, where any restraint is abandoned entirely — a far heavier, more furious onslaught driven by tremolo-picked guitars that churn with mechanical precision, locking into that signature machine-gun attack. It’s a barrage of sound that doesn’t just hit, it overwhelms, closing ranks with a cold, relentless intensity.
Demonic Sceptre is the kind of album meant for a solid black 180-gram LP, spun at 33⅓ RPM with the lights dimmed and the drums echoing off the walls — the way black metal was always intended to be consumed. It digs its talons deep into the old ways and tears them back open, leaving behind something raw, feral, unrelenting, and unapologetic in both its aggression and technicality.
