The music of Swedish extreme metal band Meshuggah is known for combining a rigid ".fn_meter(4,4)."-based hypermetrical song structure with riffs having a variety of durational spans. These looping riffs fall in and out of alignment with this background structure, but rarely overcome it, as their cycling is cut off at the end of the hypermetrical segment. Some riffs, however, further complicate this structure by seeming to beginin media res. This article studies three such riffs from the 2008 albumobZenas a way of analyzing the larger juxtaposition of rigidly regular quadruple hypermetrical song segments with riffs that struggle—and usually fail—to destabilize those structures. In my analyses, I move between conventional transcriptions and spectrograms, with an eye (and ear) toward questioning what each can tell us about musical events. Finally, with lyrics often centered on the desire for radical freedom or enlightenment, and musical patterns that ritualize the suppression of elements that break the “order” of ".fn_meter(4,4).", I suggest that Meshuggah’s use of rhythm and form explores ideas of freedom and rigid control, liveliness and predictability, with which listeners engage via a variety of embodied listening practices.

This article presents a case study of ecocritical black metal, delving into the apocalypticism of the California-based black metal band Botanist, who conjures a world in which plants have violently destroyed human civilisation. It first contextualises Botanist amidst the broader current of environmentalism in extreme metal as well as within wider cultural explorations of plants as subjective beings capable of violence. The article then examines how Botanist taps into the logic of apocalyptic environmentalism, as the music presents the essential narrative of apocalyptic bioterrorism: humanity, with wanton hubris, has sown the seeds of its own destruction, and earned whatever horrors befall it on the way to elimination. With its bleak outlook and strident sound world, Botanist's music threatens to destabilise listeners’ assumptions about their place in the world and offers an example of what apocalyptic ecological urgency in music could sound like.

New Zealand Māori metal band Alien Weaponry rose from local act to international prominence over the course of 2016–2018, lauded by critics and fans for their songs involving Māori history and culture, and with lyrics in the indigenous Māori language. This article examines Alien Weaponry's participation in Māori language revitalisation efforts and explores the use of indigenous frameworks for analysing these issues. Māori principles of kaitiakitanga (protection) and whai wāhi (participation) offer an understanding of the band's contributions to both Māori cultural preservation and global metal, and of how these contributions cooperate in the band's success. In addition to unpacking the issues of identity, indigenousness and language revitalisation inherent in understanding Alien Weaponry's output, this article also expands on previous work on nationhood and identity in both global metal music and Māori popular music.

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Light shows at contemporary rock concerts generally create an immersive, multi-sensory experience. In their most sophisticated forms, however, they provide a visual analysis of the music as it unfolds. This paper presents a case study of what I call the analytical light show, by examining how the intricate light shows of extreme metal band Meshuggah contribute an interpretive layer that not only promotes multi-sensory engagement, but also actively guides listeners through songs’ formal structures. Meshuggah’s light shows, created by lighting designer Edvard Hansson, are exhaustively synchronized to the rhythmic patterns of the guitars and drums. Meticulous use of color, brightness, directionality, placement pattern, and beam movement provide additional information about gesture, articulation, and pitch. These analytical light shows provide a three-dimensional visual score that dramatizes rhythms while guiding listeners through each riff. Through this lighting, spatial and bodily metaphors of musical movement—high and low, moving and holding still—are transmuted into visual representation. By presenting analysis and performance simultaneously and as each other, Meshuggah combines technical virtuosity with rock authenticity, and provides another example of what I have called “coercive synesthesia” (Lucas 2014), as the lighting becomes an inextricable part of the musical experience. Beyond the confines of metal culture, I study the analytical light show as an expression of vernacular musical analysis that combines specific analytical and technical expertise with the intuitive, embodied knowledge that experienced music listeners possess.