Harem Scarem – Chasing Euphoria (Canada)

If “The Pirate Bay” didn’t exist, I’m not sure I ever would’ve stumbled into Harem Scarem. The band name alone wasn’t exactly screaming “essential listening”, if anything, it sounded like something I’d skip past without a second thought. And I cannot recall seeing any of their albums for sale in the record stores I would visit.

And that’s the lesson I should’ve known by then: never judge a record by the packaging, especially in rock.

Because the second those opening chords and that razor-sharp guitar lick kicked in on “Hard to Love,” everything changed.

I was in.

Completely.

I couldn’t believe it had taken me nearly sixteen years from the debut’s release to finally hear what everyone else apparently already knew.

Pete Lesperance isn’t just good, he’s one of those players who should’ve been plastered all over every guitar magazine I grew up devouring. Fluid, melodic, precise, emotional. A guitar god hiding in plain sight.

Finding Harem Scarem that late felt like discovering a lost chapter of a book I thought I already knew. And I’ve been making up for lost time ever since.

They have always lived in that strange creative space where consistency becomes both blessing and curse. Too good to ignore, too reliable to shock. “Chasing Euphoria” leans into that identity and refuses to apologize for it.

This is a band that knows exactly what they’re chasing: melody delivered with precision, hooks built to last, musicianship that whispers instead of screams. And in a world where everyone’s trying to reinvent the wheel to get fifteen seconds of algorithmic relevance, there’s something refreshingly rebellious about a band choosing refinement over reinvention.

This is the kind of record critics never scream about…
…but fans play for years.

Standout Tracks (plus great guitar moments): “Chasing Euphoria”, “Better The Devil You Know”, “Slow Burn”, “Gotta Keep Your Head Up”, “Reliving History”, “A Falling Knife”

Wildness – Avenger (Sweden)

Wildness pulled me in before I even heard a note. It was the cover art of their 2020 album “Ultimate Demise”, that neon-drenched, retro-revenant aesthetic straight out of “The Wraith”.

And if you know “The Wraith”, you know why that matters: a cult ’80s fever dream with Charlie Sheen coming back from the dead to settle the score, backed by one of the most criminally underrated hard rock soundtracks of the era. That visual language alone told me exactly what world Wildness were operating in.

And once I pressed play, that was it. I was locked in. I started tracing backwards to their 2017 debut and forwards to everything they released after, watching the evolution, catching the nuance, waiting to see where they’d go next.

It’s safe to say they’ve got me now, committed, invested, watching every move.

Another Frontiers act, yes, but one that doesn’t get lost in the label’s vast catalogue. Wildness stand out because they know exactly how to blend nostalgia with muscle, image with substance. They hooked me with a cover, but they kept me with the music.

“Avenger” is melodic hard rock turned up to its maximum expression: massive hooks, skyscraper choruses, guitars that sparkle and snarl in equal measure.

But the crucial thing is intent. Anyone can imitate the 80s. Wildness believes in the 80s. They channel it like a power source, not a costume. There’s zero irony, zero distance. They’re not leaning on nostalgia, they’re fueling it, igniting it, weaponizing it.

This album demands that you let yourself feel something again in a world that keeps telling you to stay numb.

If you want rock that apologizes for its size, go elsewhere.

If you want rock that reminds you why you fell in love with it in the first place, start here.

Standout Tracks: “Wings Of Fire”, “Crucified”, “Broken Heart”, “Avenger”, “Stand Your Ground”, “Eye Of The Storm”, “Walk Through The Fire”

Tokyo Blade – Time Is The Fire (UK)

I’ll admit it, I came into Tokyo Blade completely cold. The name floated around my periphery for years, one of those bands you keep meaning to check out but never quite get around to.

This time, I finally pressed play, and I’m glad I did. Because “Time Is The Fire” hit me with a feeling I hadn’t tapped into for ages, that pure, unfiltered heavy metal nostalgia.

The kind that takes you straight back to dropping the needle on a Maiden or Saxon album, leaning back while the opening riffs roar to life, staring at the cover art like it’s a doorway into another world, and reading the lyrics line by line as if you’re decoding a map. Tokyo Blade gave me that feeling again. That spark. That reminder of why this genre grabbed me in the first place.

Sometimes coming in cold is the best way to rediscover the heat.

There’s a kind of honesty you only get from bands that outlast fashion. They are still swinging, still bleeding for the cause, still carrying the NWOBHM banner long after the world stopped looking in their direction.

“Time Is The Fire” isn’t perfect, and that’s exactly its charm.

The twin guitars? Still lethal.

The grit? Still real.

The need to prove something? Somehow still burning.

Standout Tracks: Every single track

Nighthawk – Six Three O (Denmark)

Nighthawk entered my world through Björn Strid, because when that man lends his voice to a project, I pay attention. Simple as that.

One listen and it was clear this wasn’t just another side-gig or nostalgia exercise. This was a band tapping straight into the veins of ’70s blues-rock grit and ’80s hard-rock swagger, the exact blend that’s basically engineered to short-circuit my resistance.

It’s the kind of sound that feels lived-in, road-tested, shaped by the ghosts of all the music that raised us. And with Strid at the helm, delivering vocals that cut through the mix with precision and soul, it became impossible not to lean in deeper.

Nighthawk didn’t sneak in, they walked through the front door carrying everything I already love. How could I not be on board?

Nighthawk understands something too many bands forget: intensity isn’t about speed or volume—it’s about intention. Six Three O is the most deliberate punch you’ll take all year.

There’s no fat. No filler. No “maybe we should try this experimental middle-eight.” The band writes like they’re chiseling granite: clean lines, sharp edges, no compromise. And in that discipline, the whole record breathes.

The songs hit with muscle, but they stick because of the craftsmanship. Every chorus lands. Every riff feels earned. There’s a sense of purpose here, a seriousness of execution that elevates what could’ve been mere nostalgia into something alive, something forward-moving.

Call it a love letter to melodic hard rock’s golden age.
But it’s written in fresh ink.

⸻

Laguna – The Ghost Of Katrina (Mexico)

Every once in a while, a debut shows up that’s less a calling card and more a manifesto. Laguna’s The Ghost Of Katrina is exactly that—an atmospheric, shadowed, deeply melodic vision of what the next era of melodic rock could be.

This album doesn’t scream. It haunts.
It lingers at the edge of the room.
It waits for you to lean in.

There’s nostalgia here, yes, but it’s tempered by melancholy, by restraint, by a sense of unspoken stories beneath the surface. The melodies sweep, the guitars shimmer, but the emotion is cloudy, unsettled—the perfect kind of tension.

It’s a debut that respects the past without being chained to it.
A rare feat: reverence without replication.

⸻

Ronnie Romero – Backbone (Chile/Spain)

Romero has spent years being the voice for other people’s visions. Finally, here he is—unfiltered, unmasked, unrestrained. Backbone is a title that borders on understatement.

This is his musical identity without the safety net. Big riffs, towering vocals, moments where he leans back into classic metal tradition and others where he barrels forward into something sharper, more modern, more feral.

There’s no hedging here. No trying to please everyone.
Just a singer with something to say, saying it at full volume.

You get the sense that this isn’t just an album—it’s a declaration.
A reminder that he’s not here to be hired. He’s here to lead.

⸻

The Southern River Band – Easier Said Than Done (Australia)

There’s reckless joy and then there’s lived-in swagger. Southern River Band choose the latter, and Easier Said Than Done is the sound of a band embracing their scars with a grin and a shot of whiskey.

Nothing here feels polished. Nothing feels safe.
And thank god.

This is rock that sweats. Rock that stumbles. Rock that gets back up because the riff demands it. You can hear the late-night gigs in the guitar tone, the worn boots in the bassline, the grit under the singer’s nails. There’s authenticity here that you can’t buy and most bands can’t fake.

It’s messy in the places that matter.
Perfect in the places that count.

⸻

Catalano – Nightfighter (Australia)

Catalano walks in wearing glam’s old leather jacket, but the energy is entirely modern: sharp, urgent, unapologetically loud. Nightfighter is a love letter to excess delivered with a fighter’s instinct.

The riffs shred. The vocals swagger. The production gleams like neon bouncing off chrome. But underneath all that bravado is a tightness, a discipline, a sense of knowing exactly when to strike.

This isn’t retro worship—it’s resurrection.
Not imitation—acceleration.

If glam metal ever needed a new champion for the modern era, this album throws down the gauntlet.

⸻

Creeper – Sanguivore II: Mistress Of Death (UK)

Creeper have always walked the line between drama and danger. Sanguivore II doesn’t walk—it sprints, capes flying, teeth bared. But what saves it from camp is conviction.

This band treats theatricality like a weapon. Not parody. Not cosplay. A delivery system for emotion, venom, and narrative. The hooks glisten like stolen jewels. The lyrics bite. The atmosphere feels like a haunted opera house lit by broken neon.

Most bands attempt this kind of thing and collapse under the weight of their own ambition. Creeper thrives in it.

They don’t tip into absurdity because they never wink.
They mean every second.
And that sincerity makes the darkness glow.

These albums sit in that fascinating space between “great” and “essential.” On any other day—hell, on any other mood swing—half of them could’ve muscled their way straight into the Top 10. They’re the records that shape-shift with you: heavier when you need weight, brighter when you need escape, sharper when you need clarity. Some pushed boundaries. Some perfected familiar formulas. Some simply refused to fade into the background. Together, they form the shadow-constellation around the main list—a reminder that music isn’t a fixed hierarchy but a living, shifting thing. These aren’t leftovers; they’re contenders, circling the throne, waiting for the right moment, the right listener, the right late-night spark to take the crown.