The history of heavy metal is often drafted by the victors, or at least, by the loudest geographies. The United Kingdom provided the doom-laden cradle of Birmingham, gifting the world the grinding riffs of Black Sabbath and later the weeping melodies of Paradise Lost; the Bay Area of California birthed the frenetic, denim-clad velocity of thrash; Norway monopolized the frostbitten winter of black metal, turning the Scandinavian chill into a global export. Yet, in the southwestern corner of Europe, amidst the sun-bleached ruins of the Algarve and the cobblestoned melancholia of Lisbon, a different frequency of darkness was being tuned in the early 1990s.

It was here, in 1992, that Inhuman formed, arriving at the precise cultural moment when the underground was shifting from the raw, bludgeoning aggression of death metal to something more atmospheric, weeping, and majestic.

The magnitude of the release of ‘Gloriæ’ in November 2025 means one cannot simply critique an album as a standalone commercial product; one must excavate a resurgence. Inhuman stands as one of the central pillars of what might be termed the “Lusitanian Gothic,” a specific scene that, while often overshadowed globally by the behemoth success of their contemporaries Moonspell, provided the emotional bedrock for a generation of Portuguese metalheads.

While Moonspell took the theatrical, wolf-hearted path to global stardom, and Heavenwood explored the romanticized, commercial edges of the genre, Inhuman remained the enigma—the band that dwelt in the shadows of Silves, emerging sporadically to release records of profound emotional weight before receding again into the silence.

The announcement of ‘Gloriæ,’ their fourth full-length studio album released via Alma Mater Records, is not merely a scheduled drop on a digital release calendar. It serves as a historiographical marker for the Southern European metal scene. It represents the survival of a specific ethos—the 1990s gothic metal spirit—transmuted through modern production and the weary wisdom of veterans.

The Inhuman Return of Glory and Ruin

The central tension of Inhuman’s career, and specifically of this new record, is the interplay between presence and absence. The title itself, ‘Gloriæ’ (Latin for “of glory”), suggests a grandeur that is immediately complicated by the band’s lyrical content and visual presentation.

The band revealed that the album’s central concept is glory—specifically, its presence and absence—which serves as an allegory for individual struggles and achievements. Distinct from the “glory” typical of power metal, which focuses on high fantasy, dragons, and mythic victories, this album explores the quiet, often unseen dignity of the survivor. It is the “glory” inherent in enduring the constant wear of time and life.

‘Gloriæ’ constitutes an “artistic manifesto,” stripping away the baroque ornamentation often associated with the gothic genre to reveal a minimalist, muscular core. The singles ‘Conspiratio’ and ‘To Reign in Captivity,’ along with the band’s visual evolution and production choices, demonstrate how Inhuman has navigated the treacherous waters of nostalgia.

They have avoided the trap of becoming a “legacy act” merely replaying old hits, instead producing a work that is contemporary yet deeply rooted in the sonic signatures of 1996. The album is a study in “Saudade”—that uniquely Portuguese untranslatable emotion describing a deep state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. ‘Gloriæ’ is the sound of that longing given form.

The Historical Legacy of Silves

Inhuman hails from Silves, a city in the Algarve region of southern Portugal. This geographical detail is not trivial; it is foundational to their sonic identity. While Lisbon and Porto served as the primary industrial hubs for the developing Portuguese metal scene in the 80s and 90s, offering easier access to venues and international acts, the Algarve presented a different environment.

It is a region defined by ancient history, once the capital of the Al-Gharb under Moorish rule, characterized by blinding light, red sandstone castles, and deep historical shadows.

Formed in December 1992 , Inhuman emerged during a transitional period for Portuguese society. The 90s in Portugal were a decade of rapid modernization following the integration into the European Economic Community (EEC), yet the cultural underground remained gritty, reliant on tape trading, fanzines, and a do-it-yourself ethos that bordered on survivalism. The “Lusitanian” sound that developed during this era was not uniform, but it was united by a sense of struggle.

While bands like Decayed and The Coven were exploring the harsher, rawer realms of black metal , and acts like Tarantula were holding the torch for traditional heavy power metal, Inhuman gravitated toward the “Peaceville Three” sound (Paradise Lost, My Dying Bride, Anathema) that was emanating from the United Kingdom.

However, rather than mere mimicry, the isolation of the Algarve allowed Inhuman to incubate a sound that was less industrial and more atmospheric, blending the aggression of death metal with the introspection of gothic rock. They were not trying to sound like they were from Bradford or Liverpool; they sounded like they were from the end of the world, where the land meets the Atlantic.

Punctuation Marks in Time

The trajectory of Inhuman is defined as much by their silence as their output. Their career can be segmented into three distinct epochs, each representing a different relationship with the genre they inhabit and the broader music industry.

The band’s early career yielded two essential works of Portuguese metal: ‘Strange Desire’ (1996) and ‘Foreshadow’ (1998). ‘Strange Desire’ was released when gothic metal was at its height, coinciding with the popularization of the “Beauty and the Beast” vocal style (a contrast between growls and clean vocals), notably used by bands like Theatre of Tragedy and Tristania.

Inhuman, however, focused heavily on atmosphere and Pedro Garcia’s distinctive vocal delivery, which often eschewed the overly operatic for a more raw, emotional resonance. These albums established them as peers to Moonspell, even if they lacked the international distribution network to achieve the same commercial heights.

Following a split in 2002, the band entered a period of dormancy, save for a brief reunion between 2008 and 2011 that produced the demo ‘The Beast Is Rising.’ This “Great Silence” is crucial for understanding the weight of their modern material. The themes of “absence” explored in ‘Gloriæ’ are likely informed by this decade-plus of artistic inactivity.

For a band to survive a fifteen-year gap and return with relevance is rare; it suggests that the music is driven by necessity rather than commercial ambition. In the timeline of Portuguese metal, this gap represents a “lost decade” where many bands vanished, unable to cope with the changing music industry scene of the mid-2000s.

The true resurrection occurred with the release of ‘Contra’ in 2020. Released via Alma Mater Records (run by Moonspell’s Fernando Ribeiro), ‘Contra’ was a declaration of intent. It was produced by Daniel Cardoso (Anathema), marking a shift toward high-fidelity production and a modernized sound that incorporated post-metal and alternative influences while retaining the gothic core. ‘Gloriæ’ (2025) is the direct successor to this rebirth, described as the band’s “most mature and daring album to date.”

The Lusitanian Underground

To value the “glory” Inhuman speaks of, one must understand the adversity of their origins. The Portuguese heavy metal scene of the 1990s was not a welcoming industry; it was a battleground.

As described in retrospectives of the era, growing up in 90s Portugal often involved a rough, street-level existence, particularly in areas near social housing projects. Bullying and harassment were normalized, and aligning oneself with a subculture—be it metal or punk—was a survival strategy as much as an aesthetic choice.

The scene was populated by bands with evocative, often brutal names that reflected this environment. Alongside Inhuman, the roster included acts like Thormenthor (death metal pioneers), Decayed (black metal purists), Sacred Sin (whose track ‘Darkside’ broke through to MTV’s Headbangers Ball in 1993), and the industrial metal machine Bizarra Locomotiva. There were also obscurities like Vomitory and Cruel Hate from Aveiro, who recorded demos but struggled for national recognition.

Inhuman navigated this landscape by offering an alternative to the prevailing aggression. While Sacred Sin offered speed and Decayed offered blasphemy, Inhuman offered introspection. They provided a soundtrack for the “black pants, white sneakers, patched jackets” crowd who felt the alienation of the decade but sought beauty within it.

The infrastructure of this scene was built around specific hubs. In Lisbon, venues like the República da Música (where the ‘Gloriæ’ launch event is taking place) have become sacred ground for the genre. These spaces are not just concert halls; they are cultural preservers. The fact that Inhuman is returning to República da Música for the ‘Alma Mater Nights’ in December 2025 symbolizes a closing of the circle—returning to the heart of the capital to present work forged in the periphery.

The community was also built on the tape trading culture, where demos like Inhuman’s own early works or Cruel Hate’s ‘Dying In Fear’ (1992) circulated by hand. This analogue network created a bond between band and fan that persists today, explaining why a band can return after a 15-year silence and still find an audience waiting.

The Alma Mater Ecosystem

The release of ‘Gloriæ’ on Alma Mater Records is the single most significant factor in Inhuman’s modern visibility. Fernando Ribeiro, the frontman of Moonspell, has effectively transitioned into the role of a “metal statesman” and curator of Portuguese heritage arts, therefore, signing Inhuman, Ribeiro is not just conducting a business transaction; he is validating the history of the scene he helped build.

Ribeiro was reportedly “bewitched by the brilliant proposal of the band” when they returned with ‘Contra.’ The relationship between Moonspell and Inhuman—two bands formed in the same year (1992), traveling parallel paths—adds a layer of metanarrative to the release. Inhuman is not just a band on a label; they are survivors of the same trenches.

This partnership culminates in the ‘Alma Mater Nights,’ a label-curated event in Lisbon scheduled for December 12, 2025. This event serves as a physical manifestation of the label’s aesthetic: a celebration of “Portuguese metal at its most authentic and powerful.”

The sonic architecture of ‘Gloriæ’ is once again overseen by Daniel Cardoso. Cardoso is a pivotal figure in modern European melancholic metal, having worked with Anathema, Angelus Apatrida, and Ava Inferi. His production style is characterized by a “clean heaviness”—he avoids the muddy reverb of 90s gothic metal in favor of separation, clarity, and punch.

On ‘Gloriæ,’ Cardoso’s influence is evident in the minimalist approach the band describes. The production allows the “interplay of presence and absence” to be audible. In practical terms, this likely means dynamic range: allowing silence to exist between the riffs, letting the bass guitar of Guilherme Garboa breathe, and ensuring Pedro Garcia’s vocals sit atop the mix without being swallowed by symphonics.

The band explicitly states that their approach is to “let the music be at the heart of our existence,” a philosophy that Cardoso is uniquely equipped to translate into sound engineering.

The Anatomy of ‘Gloriæ’

The title ‘Gloriæ’ is derived from the Latin phrase for “of glory.” However, Inhuman subverts the traditional metal trope of glory-as-conquest. In their current artistic iteration, glory is framed as a “metaphor for personal struggles and triumphs.” This is an internal glory—the glory of the psyche surviving trauma.

The band invites listeners to interpret the “subjective nature of glory.” This subjectivism is a hallmark of the gothic genre, which prioritizes individual emotional experience over collective narrative. The “absence of glory” is just as important as its presence. This dialectic suggests that the album explores themes of failure, loss, and the “twilight of deceit,” asking whether glory can exist in the acceptance of defeat.

Visually, Inhuman has pivoted toward minimalism. The band notes that “at this stage of our career, we feel the need to strip away unnecessary layers, both visually and conceptually.” This is a bold move for a gothic metal band, a genre historically steeped in maximalism—velvet, candelabras, religious iconography, and intricate logos.

Stripping the imagery down, Inhuman aligns themselves with a more modern post-metal or dark metal aesthetic, similar to the visual evolution seen in bands like Katatonia or Paradise Lost in their later years. The focus on “presence and absence” likely translates to artwork that makes use of negative space, stark contrasts, and simple, evocative symbols rather than chaotic illustrations. This visual silence forces the audience to focus on the audio, reinforcing their manifesto that “the music must speak louder than any image.”

The Singles Triptych

The rollout of ‘Gloriæ’ was anchored by two key singles: ‘Conspiratio’ and ‘To Reign in Captivity.’ These tracks, along with the opener ‘Absent Glory,’ form a triptych that defines the album’s musical compass.

‘Conspiratio’: The Architecture of Deceit

Released as the first video single, ‘Conspiratio’ serves as the aggressive introduction to the album. The band describes the track as navigating “the twilight of deceit and despair, where anguish blooms like fire over shattered hopes.”

‘Conspiratio’ operates on dense, piercing riffs that weave with haunting echoes. The track length is relatively concise, suggesting a focus on impact rather than progressive meandering. The “grooves” are described as dense, overlaid with haunting melodies. This points to a songwriting style that values rhythmic weight—the “thump right in the chest” —balanced by the atmospheric leads characteristic of Portuguese metal.

The Latin term “conspiratio” literally translates to “breathing together” (con-spirare). Historically, it implies a union or agreement, often for a sinister purpose (a conspiracy). However, in a theological context, it can also refer to the harmony of the hierarchy or the community. Inhuman likely plays on this duality: the “breathing together” of a band united in purpose, versus the “breathing together” of a world conspiring to crush the individual.

The video for ‘Conspiratio’ offers an intense first glimpse of the album’s aesthetic. Given the minimalist directive, the video likely avoids narrative storytelling in favor of performance footage or abstract imagery that emphasizes the “crumbling apocalypse” described in the press materials.

‘To Reign in Captivity’: The Paradox of Sovereignty

The second single, ‘To Reign in Captivity,’ is arguably the emotional centerpiece of the promotional campaign. The title itself is a paradox—how does one reign if one is captive? The band clarifies: it reflects “the inner conflict between confinement and transcendence—the struggle to maintain sovereignty over oneself while facing the weight of isolation and despair.”

Critics have compared this track to the “beautiful melancholy” of Blazing Eternity, noting its balance of “atmosphere and heaviness.” It is described as “sonically rich and emotionally charged.” This track likely features the interplay of clean and harsh vocals that Inhuman uses, with the vocal duality representing the conflict between the “captive” self and the “reigning” spirit. Its nearly five-minute duration allows for a more cinematic build-up than ‘Conspiratio.’

The music video is described as visually striking. The band’s statement accompanying the release was deeply personal: “The stage has been silent for too long. Its absence lingers like a shadow—and we ache to return.” This quote bridges the gap between the song’s lyrical theme (captivity) and the band’s real-world history (hiatus). The video serves as a visual metaphor for their return to the “stage,” reclaiming their territory after years of silence.

‘Absent Glory’: The Overture

The album opener, ‘Absent Glory,’ sets the sonic stage. Reviews highlight that it begins with a short intro before instrumentals crash in with a “huge soaring melody.” Crucially, the low end is mixed to add considerable weight. This track serves to reassure legacy fans that Inhuman “continues to be on the metal side of the spectrum,” despite the gothic rock hooks. It is the bridge between the heavy metal roots of 1992 and the polished melodicism of 2025.

Alma Mater Nights and the Community

Having established the conflict, the album retreats into a period of introspection. The middle section of the record explores the cost of this rebellion. It acknowledges that even righteous rage leaves scars, and that to fight the darkness, one often has to let it inside.

The release of ‘Gloriæ’ culminates in the live performance on December 12, 2025, at República da Música in Lisbon. This is not merely a gig; it is a label-curated event dubbed the ‘Alma Mater Nights,’ and for Inhuman, a band that has spent years in “captivity” (hiatus/silence), the return to the stage is the literal enactment of ‘Reigning in Captivity.’

The performance serves to re-inscribe their name into the physical space of the Lisbon scene. The presence of a DJ set by Fernando Moon (Moonspell) acts as a seal of approval, knitting the community together—veterans on stage, veterans in the DJ booth, and a multi-generational audience on the floor.

Sharing the stage with Inhuman is Glasya, another Portuguese band signed to Alma Mater Records/Scarlet Records. Including Glasya on the bill provides a fascinating counterpoint to Inhuman’s style. While Inhuman represents the “Gothic” (dark, introspective, rock-based), Glasya represents the “Symphonic” or “Soundtrack Metal.”

Glasya is known for high-concept storytelling. Their previous album, ‘Attarghan’ (2022), was a concept album about a high-ranking soldier in the ancient Persian Empire who leads a rebellion. Their new album, ‘Fear’ (released October 2025), continues this trend of “empowering symphonic metal tales.”

While pairing these two bands, Alma Mater Records is showcasing the breadth of the Portuguese metal identity: one band looks inward to the soul (Inhuman), while the other looks outward to history and fantasy (Glasya). Together, they represent the “authentic and powerful” spectrum of the scene.

The Persistence of Glory

More than a mere ten-song collection, ‘Gloriæ’ is a powerful statement on the enduring nature of the gothic metal genre, especially within the resilient Portuguese underground scene. Despite facing challenges like the music industry’s 2000s collapse, personnel shifts, name conflicts, and long periods of inactivity, Inhuman has delivered what critics are hailing as their “most mature” record to date.

Inhuman remains relevant by maturing with their music, prioritizing the “heart of existence” over superficial flair. Far from a 90s tribute, the band sounds like true veterans. Their celebrated “glory” is not fleeting splendor, but the robust, enduring presence of the survivor—a weathered, solid stone.

We often measure an artist’s success by their visibility—the tours, the streams, the magazine covers—but ‘Gloriæ’ suggests that true artistic weight might actually be found in the endurance of silence and the refusal to disappear. As you listen to the stark, stripped-back production of this new record, how does the concept of “absence” resonate with your own experience of heavy music as you have aged?

Does the music that accompanies your own life need to be constantly loud, or have you found, like Inhuman, that there is a specific kind of power in the quiet spaces between the noise?