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Ignacia Fernández of death metal band Decessus crowned Miss World Chile after viral performance of an unreleased metal song.

A former Justice Department employee who threw a sandwich at a federal agent during President Donald Trump’s law enforcement surge in Washington has been found not guilty of assault.

Hailing from Guadalajara, Mexico, folk-death septet Cemican caught my attention way back in 2019 with their third record, In Ohtli Teoyohtica In Miquiztli. Boasting strong riffcraft and a penchant for chimeric songwriting, Cemican’s unique style and compelling subject matter challenged what I expected from the death metal scene at the time. Focused on bringing to the fore the sounds, rhythms, and even the language of pre-Mexican indigenous peoples (specifically, Mayan), Cemican’s mission serves a cultural spirit lost to time colonialism. Depicting tales of ancient Mayan gods and legends, and based on the mysticism and ideology of Mayan culture, upcoming fourth outing, U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj, quickly earned my undivided attention. U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj sees Cemican at their heaviest and most adventurous yet. Pounding drums of various disciplines hit with the impact of a titan’s fist on sacred ground, as roaring growls and ethereal chants swirl amongst stomping riffs and tempestuous tremolos. Soaring atop these storming pyrotechnics, an assortment of flutes (played by no fewer than five of Cemican’s seven musicians) sing ancestral melodies, sometimes in lockstep with the modern metallics, other times as an uplifting counterpoint. A rebellious heavy metal spirit influences a fair portion of Cemican’s songwriting this time around, going so far as to step boldly into the spotlight and overwrite the record’s death metal core entirely, twice (“El Niño que Contemplaba a las Estrellas,” “¿Dónde estás?”). Regardless of what corporeal form it takes, though, Cemican’s sound is epic, ancient, and massive. U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj by Cemican At an hour and seven minutes, U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj sounds like a bloated mass desperate for self-editing on paper. Yet, six years of careful attention to detail result in 12 songs that all have something interesting and memorable to take home, and a wealth of ideas that support and even elevate those takeaways. Killer riffs in “Yóok ‘ol kaab Maya” work in tandem with wild flutes, squealing solos, and a somewhat unsteady chorus that feels natural in context with the composition, where it would feel clumsy elsewhere. Brutal speed intensifies “Los Guardianes de la Tierra” as blackened winds chill companion piece “Hun-Came” to the bone, creating a thrilling but well-timed shift from the chunky grooves of earlier bangers like “Tán tí le Xibalba” and powerful opener “Kukulkán Wakah Chan.” Even Cemican’s long-form excursions, which build sturdy bridges between tribal instrumentals, deadly heft, and ethereal melodicism, boast a compelling multitude of ideas, buttery-smooth transitions, and rich textures that easily justify their protracted runtimes (“Viaje Astral del Quetzal de Fuego,” “Horizonte de Almas”). Of course, with so many ideas stuffed into one work, there are bound to be some kinks. For Cemican, those hiccups largely surface when they shift styles with no telegraphing. Such outliers as “El Niño que Contemplaba a las Estrellas” and “¿Dónde estás?” are good songs on their own. In particular, it’s surprising how successful “El Niño que Contemplaba a las Estrellas” is as a heavy/power epic. However, there’s very little connective tissue—right down to the lighter and cleaner guitar tone—that explains its existence in the album context, other than subject matter. “¿Dónde estás?” damages album cohesion in much the same way, and with somewhat less success than its album-mate due to less memorable writing and ballad-like wistfulness. Without these tracks, not only would U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj clock in at a more reasonable 56 minutes total, but it would feel more consistent and smooth. That said, “El Niño que Contemplaba a las Estrellas” would’ve made an excellent bonus track or even just a separate single that I’d happily recruit for playlist duty. In sum, Cemican solidify their status as one of the more interesting acts in the death metal universe. Their adoption of indigenous music as part of their formula goes a long way towards setting them apart from their peers sonically, but it’s their fearless songwriting and meticulous detailing that seals the deal. U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj represents their most refined and compelling work to date, and while it has its missteps, even those would find purchase on another record better built to support them. It just goes to show how talented and skilled Cemican are. With this in mind, I look forward to spending more time enjoying U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj, a qualified, but unique triumph. --- Rating: Very Good! DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3 Label: M-Theory Audio Websites: cemican1.bandcamp.com/album/u-kuukankil-mayakaaj | facebook.com/pages/CEMICAN/320421353267 Releases Worldwide: October 31st, 2025 The post Cemican – U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Hailing from Guadalajara, Mexico, folk-death septet Cemican caught my attention way back in 2019 with their third record, In Ohtli Teoyohtica In Miquiztli.