Czech collective, Heiden, started as a pagan black metal band inspired by the mysteries of the Carpathian Mountains. It was twenty-two years ago when they issued their first album (see Potomkům pozemského soumraku), and in that time they’ve racked up eight more and evolved into something unfathomable. Cma is their tenth full-length outing, and it might be the most original record of 2026.
The sludgy staccato intro of ‘Odmítám zítřek’ would pound you into the abyss if not for the deep sphere of keyboard atmospherics protecting you from the violence. Observe how the drummer dictates the pace and mood with his start-stop approach. The use of syncopation in the main rhythm works well with the tremolo patterns filling in the spaces. Keyboard flutes stalk from the sides as words growl like stray hounds. A militaristic prowess is the last thing you expect underneath this aggression, yet its force will make you stand up straight. By contrast, the paranoia is as great as the fear pervading through ‘Temnoplodec’. This music is like the moment when you realise the dehydration of your hangover is no longer the cause of your nervousness. Stubborn downward palm-mutes dominate the intensity as the drums power forward. Your instinct is not to describe; it’s to absorb. What is happening here?
They don’t wear capes and face masks, but this is a band that should. Seldom can we say the music creates an image of the artist like it does here. ‘Vodě’ is how gothic metal would sound if it took the sinister tones of Kafka’s philosophical absurdism as its theme and mood. Vocalist, Kverd, approaches his microphone as if contemplating a live rat on the end of his fork. The post-rock textures of ‘Rozsudek’ suggest they might open their arms to a saxophone at any moment, but its smoky cabin setting subsists on piano and discordant guitars with the keyboard lending its brass presets in the background.
Heiden say in their press release that “memory, guilt, and fear merge into a single current.” They’re right. An inner agitation creeps through your bones with every track. The nearest reference point is Blut Aus Nord. You’re not sure what it is, but it strangles you with invisible hands. Listen how the drummer keeps everything on track with his double-kick footwork as the bass tries to hide under the camouflage of sneaky guitar phrasings. The natural harmonic fretting of ‘Stěna’ is subtle enough to make you check the volume of the music. Heiden don’t work towards peak dynamics. Their intention is to fuel a constant tension, and the cinematic quality is impressive. Even the quieter moments lurk with menace.
The message is clear: don’t look in the mirror. You’ll detest what you’ve become. Hark how a second guitar squirms among the chord slashes and slimy bass notes of ‘Svědek’ like a snake in the grass. You’ll find no pastel colours in this music. Heiden’s world exists in the dark woodlands of a full moon. Their art is unique enough to warrant the question: is this even metal? It has the aggression, the darkness, the guitar rhythms, and the technical drum work, yet it feels like music from an underground world that’s invisible to ninety-nine percent of the world’s population.
Nothing is original these days, but this is as close as it gets in 2026.
Kirk Houghton
Verdict
Release Date: 24/04/2026
Record Label: EPIDEMIE Records
Standout tracks: Odmítám zítřek; Stěna; Svědek
Suggested Further Listening: Negură Bunget – Om (2006), Blut Aus Nord – Disharmonium – Undreamable Abysses (2022), Omega Infinity – The Anticurrent (2023)