Tech death is a saturated field crowded with artists determined to out-noodle each other. It can be great fun, but the density of artists that overpopulate the scene often make it difficult to find something interesting or novel. As cookie-cutter album after cookie-cutter album whooshes overhead, a curious little gem by Québécois one-man tech death act Volubilis1 caught my periphery. Entitled Theasterion, Volubilis’ debut LP entered development prior to the band’s own establishment. Mastermind Miguel Marcheterre-Pina penned content that would end up a part of Theasterion as early as 2016 (earliest known use of the Volubilis name is registered in 2023). That’s a long time for a debut to percolate, but does such an extended incubation period result in stronger spawn?
Theasterion is an exemplary argument in favor of “quality over quantity,” boasting 33 minutes of the most fun and exciting straight-up technical death metal I’ve heard all year so far. Imagine if Equipoise was much more minimalist (“Ashes & Embers,” “Unukhalai Supernova”), but infused First Fragment’s epic sweeps (“Homo Cumulus”), Obscura’s and Nawabs of Destruction’s dramatic melodicism (“Le Flamboiement Stellaire,” “The Prism”), and Scumbag’s vicious groove (“Theasterion,” “Unukhalai Supernova”), and you have the overarching breadth of Volubilis’ sound. Compelling songwriting backed by a crystalline but not overly polished mix allows these various traits to meld in colorful synchronicity, creating a cohesive and effortless listening experience that is as boisterous as it is rewarding to revisit.
To scaffold his riff-laden, exuberant compositions, Marcheterre-Pina wisely recruited talent from across the Canadian metal scene with a meticulous ear. I in particular appreciate that nobody in his lineup is a household name in the tech scene,2 but everyone performs here as if their careers depended on it. André Dubien absolutely destroys his mic with an explosive combination of monstrous roars and screeching high rasps. Jacob Collins’ percussive attack is multifaceted and energetic, exhibiting an infectious predilection for machine-gun double-bass runs (“Le Flamboiement Stellaire”). Shawn Hillman acquits himself with aplomb on the low end as well, his bass noodling and compact counterpoint contrasting wonderfully with Marcheterre-Pina’s crushing riffs and oscillating lead work (“Theasterion”). Guest guitar solos from Alexis Rioux fit right at home on tracks one and three, camouflaging themselves inside of their respective songs while sparkling and shimmering with bright tones and expressive phrases. So too do Michelle Gao’s strings on the closing track, adding a lushness that feels appropriate to elevate Theasterion’s final moments.
If the performances aren’t argument enough in support of Theasterion’s claim to greatness, the songwriting alone carries. Every track has something of substance to take home, and while a couple of items shine more brightly than others (especially “Theasterion” and “Homo Cumulus”), none feel lackluster by comparison in any category. Smart editing across the runtime allows a per-song average that totals above five minutes to feel justified, and the high-octane pace maintained throughout even the longest tracks (“Theasterion,” “Unukhalai Supernova” at 6-and-a-half minutes each) shrinks time around them. Mid-song transitions involving piano, acoustic reprisals of Marcheterre-Pina’s leads, and tumbling percussive fills smooth the canyons carved by deeply layered meltdowns and punishing swings (“Ashes & Embers”). Every decision made to construct, perform, and engineer Theasterion seems tailored to deliver the most bang for the buck. This, in turn, leaves very little opportunity for flaws to creep in.
With enough spins, though, a couple of flaws do creep. The primary of these is the abrupt manner in which some songs end. While none are wholly disruptive, and the subsequent launch of neighboring tracks routinely offers a thematic through-line to help hold Theasterion aloft, a bit of extra silence—or a gentler fade-out on occasion—would soften these overly sharp departures. Secondly, while I do enjoy Theasterion’s mix and master, I think moving André’s vocals back a half step would balance things out a bit more without threatening his well-earned spotlight. Otherwise, there’s very little to complain about here. Volubilis came out swinging with a killer underground tech-death debut. You best move out of their way lest you get your face smashed.
Rating: Great!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self Released
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: July 10th, 2026
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