Metal has always been a political force; anyone who tells you otherwise has never actually listened to "War Pigs." The genre has continuously used its words and sounds to question, to confront, to defy — and while there are those who wish that metal would be more apolitical, they're also the ones completely missing the point. They've also clearly never heard Ethereal Tomb. Hailing from Barrie and Tkaronto, the band, who self-describe as "TURTLE ISLAND STREET METAL," couples their raw, bludgeoning sound with urgent messaging that celebrates sovereignty, resistance, self-affirmation and Indigeneity. Lauded by fans, critics and contemporaries alike, the outfit's impassioned, community-based approach to metal is one of their most commendable elements. They play all across this country (and that other one South of the border), in spaces and cities most of us have never heard of, on reservations and to fans most bands will never even think about playing to. They are road warriors, determined to spread the sound to those who are often not only underrepresented in the heavy music scene, but outright ignored. With Living to Dream Again, their punishing, thought-provoking new album, Ethereal Tomb — Alexander (guitar/vocals/lyrics), Kz (drums) and Coltyn (bass) — have released another tremendous, rumbling collection of songs filled with buzzsaw riffs, pounding rhythms and throat-shredding vocals, all anchored by Alexander's poignant, fiery words. Opener and title track "Living to Dream Again" crawls on clanging cymbals, crumbling double-tracked vocals and ringing, distorted chords that extend through the cerebellum and slaughter the soul, Alexander's lacerated growl intoning one of the most effective (and affective) opening lines on a metal record in recent memory: "You do not have to remember / When the land does not forget." Later, he screams, "I was born into your world / But you will die in mine," with such hair-raising conviction that it no longer sounds like a metaphor. While the band's sound is indebted to doom and sludge, there's a healthy dose of hardcore and death metal mixed in. They produced the album with Jaye Schwarzer, bassist for hardcore luminaries Cancer Bats, and his influence is evident on tracks like "Destroyed with Regret" and "Burden of Heart," which feature plenty of stomp, the slow-building breakdown of the latter bleeding into a thunderous climax (and the inevitable circle pit). Living to Dream Again is a short but pummelling affair, clocking in at just under 25 minutes. But what the record lacks in length, it more than makes up for in intensity and righteous venom. Songs like "Abandon Suffering" and "Death of the Indian" are frosty, dissonant slabs, the crushing chorus of the latter (which the band originally released as a single in 2022) ending with a fact, not a promise: "Reminisce the facts / Justice is what we'll have." Still, for all of its force (your frontal lobe will thank you), the album's secret power rests in its surprising introspection: "Burdened but unbroken / I will remain," Alexander screams on "Burden of Heart," his self-acceptance and perseverance manifesting as defiant acts in the face of widespread apathy. Similarly, on "Unbecoming," he looks inward, growling viciously, "With so much left to learn / As I walk this path / I am unbecoming," resilient and determined. And yet, after all of the abrasive sounds and relentless rhythms, the album ends in an unexpected, even startling way. The last track, "Liberatory Violence," is a sonic collage featuring clips from the essential Graham Greene-starring thriller Clearcut, and the sounds of birds and lapping water. The film, a complex examination of Indigenous land rights, environmentalism and the pitfalls of pacificism, sees Greene's character, Arthur, enacting his fury on colonialism itself. There will be blood. However, after the quotes and coughs and gunshots have dissipated, the water is left alone with the chirping animals, bubbling, rushing, free. The land does not forget, and neither does Living to Dream Again. Ethereal Tomb — their songs, their very presence — are intense and topical. They obliterate the line between art and activism, between music and mayhem, between protest and power chords. Their music is the sound of rebellion, raging through the collective and feeding it; a call to arms against a sea of indifference and oppression. They could give a fuck if you think they should tone it down.