Review by Norbert on October 6, 2026.

Bytom, 1996. It is hard to imagine a better time and place to start a band playing music that, for the next several decades, would sound as if it had been recorded two floors underground. And I am not talking only about the obvious association with Silesia, mines, and coal. Bytom has the weight of an old industrial city, monumental tenement buildings standing next to crumbling courtyards, and ground that was drilled through so intensively for decades that in places it eventually started demanding its due. It can be beautiful and fucking ugly at the same time, dignified and run-down. It is hard to imagine a better backdrop for Throneum. This is where Tomasz "The Great Executor" brought Throne to life, a band renamed Throneum a few years later.

Musically, Throneum were most interested in the moldiest branch of extreme death metal. Not the surgically precise kind of death metal, but the kind that remembers the days when everything was supposed to be above all evil, heavy, and unhealthy. Autopsy with its rotting riffs, Asphyx with a steamroller crushing your chest, the underground abyss of Incantation, Necrovore sounding like a message intercepted straight from hell. Add some old black metal, a bit of thrash venom, and the belief that if the amplifier is crackling, it does not necessarily need fixing. Over the years, this has resulted in a discography that looks like the product of pathological hoarding: albums, demos, EPs, tapes, seven-inches, and a whole army of splits. Even someone who has been following Throneum for years might wonder whether they have somehow missed something along the way.

If the 2018 album The Tight Deathrope Act Over Rubicon was the first, somewhat timid tremor in Bytom's underground old-school death metal mine, then the follow-up Oh Death… Oh Death… Determinate, Preach And Lead Us Astray, released two years later, showed that something strange had happened in this ecosystem that had remained stable for years. It was still Throneum, only apparently after a few psychedelics. Long-form compositions, trance, ambient spaces, doom-laden slowdowns, dissonance, and on 'Delta: Self-Appointed-Grandeur,' even female vocals. The old death metal corpse was still lying in the basement; only apparently it had eaten something and started seeing colors. You could have considered it a one-off trip. Six years later, the album Love Is The Law But Death Is The Frame — officially premiering on October 16, although the material is already available to stream online — shows that it was more likely the first dose. It is also Throneum's second consecutive studio album released by Godz Ov War Productions, and it is hard to imagine a better home for the band's current incarnation: a label uncompromisingly rooted in the extreme underground while remaining open to its twisted and experimental fringes.

On the new album, death metal has become just one of the languages Throneum use whenever they feel like it. A fragment that sounds like a band from fifteen years ago can sit next to one in which metal practically ceases to be the main point of reference. Psychedelia, jazz excursions, ritualistic rhythms, and much freer playing push their way into the old riffs without knocking. And there is no sense that the band is deliberately showing off its new toys. They simply throw everything into the same cauldron and see what starts bubbling. And this is where something emerges that has not changed in Throneum one bit: they have always given absolutely no fucks about what people expect from them. Once, that meant playing archaic death/black metal and releasing one split after another for a handful of maniacs. Now it apparently means there is no reason to limit themselves even to the formula they spent decades building. The jazz is therefore smeared in mud, the psychedelia reeks of a basement, and a freer passage can suddenly get smacked in the face by a death metal riff. Throneum let plenty of new things into their music, but they do not allow a single one of them through the door wearing clean shoes.

This music mutates more than it "develops." A riff can still nod toward old-school death metal, only to become the starting point for something narcotic a moment later; instead of pushing a song forward, the rhythm starts circling around its own axis, and the guitar does not always feel obliged to produce another riff. Plenty is happening underneath it all, too. The bass does not obediently follow the rest of the band, but runs its own lines, while the drums, apart from the usual pounding, are given room for looser and at times almost ritualistic playing. At times, the whole thing feels like an organism that has grown extra limbs, and nobody has any intention of amputating them just because they are not supposed to be there according to the rules of anatomy.

The vocals are another trip altogether. The Great Executor has significantly expanded his arsenal: he modulates his voice, changes its tone and phrasing, and can sound aggressive but also simply deranged. He no longer reduces every part to the same kind of metal rage; his voice deforms along with the music and becomes another tool used to throw the whole thing off balance. There are also plenty of female vocals here. They are not some guest decoration dropped into a couple of passages, but one of the album's defining elements: sometimes melodic, sometimes distorted, haunted, witch-like. A female voice already appeared on "Oh Death…", but here it is no longer a guest briefly allowed into the basement. It has been given its own set of keys.

Despite all this madness, there is still no problem recognizing Throneum. Their characteristic riffing, melodies, filth, controlled chaos, and that particular kind of metal arrogance keep the album grounded. It therefore does not sound like a side project accidentally released under the wrong name. The old Throneum has not been replaced by a new one; it simply got a lot more tools and immediately started using them against the instructions. That makes it genuinely difficult to predict where the music will turn next, and trying to organize it or trim away all the protruding elements would be a bit like renovating an old Bytom tenement building and finishing the job by covering the façade with styrofoam insulation. Sure, it would look more even. But what the fuck for?

Love Is The Law But Death Is The Frame will probably put off some maniacs who simply want another serving of filthy death/black metal. Anyone who considered "Oh Death…" too much six years ago will have even more reasons to complain here. The thing is, it is hard to imagine a band less interested in such a problem. After thirty years, Throneum are still doing exactly the same thing: making music on their own terms and giving absolutely no fucks about how many people will want to follow them. The only thing that has changed is the answer to the question of what Throneum feel like doing these days.

And that answer has become one hell of a difficult thing to predict.

Rating: 8.5 out of 10