I remember the first time I heard Napalm Death. It was late-night radio back in the 80s, you know (if you’re old enough) the kind of show where the DJ sounded like they were broadcasting from a bunker and the needle dropped on Scum. It was a total, unmitigated shock to the system; music that didn't just break the rules but seemed entirely unaware that rules even existed.
I mean up to that point I was listening to Motorhead and Black Sabbath back then and I thought that was heavy. Napalm Death unleashed something that was just brutal. They’ve remained a constant in my life ever since, a reliable barometer for the world’s rising temperature. I’m seeing them again later this year at Welcome To Rockville in Daytona, and while the idea of watching them under the Florida sunshine feels slightly surreal, like a riot breaking out at a beach party, I’m counting down the days.
The Melvins, on the other hand, are a much more recent excavation for me. I managed to miss the boat on them for decades, and I still don’t understand how that happened, until I finally caught them live in Norwich. As I noted in that review, seeing them in a room that small was an experience; it was the sound of a band that has spent forty years mastering the art of the "sludge-heavy crawl," proving that the "grunge" label they’re often saddled with is far too small for the noise they actually make.
So, the prospect of Savage Imperial Death March, a full-length collision between the Birmingham grindcore pioneers and the Washington sludge kings is less of a "collaboration" and more of a tectonic event. This isn't just two bands sharing a split; this is a total fusion of architectures.
The record opens with Tossing Coins Into The Fountain Of Fuck, and immediately, the logic of the project becomes clear. It starts with a classic Melvins-style rhythmic stumble, a thick, fuzzy groove that feels like it’s being dragged through the mud before Napalm Death’s high-velocity vitriol cuts through the centre. It’s an awesome, disorienting friction. You have the "glacial" weight of Buzz’s riffs acting as a foundation for the unmistakable, guttural roar that heralds Napalm Death’s arrival. It’s a masterclass in the balance of beauty and brutality, delivered with a pedigree that most bands can only dream of.
As we move into Some Kind Of Antichrist and Awful Handwriting, the record starts to reveal its darker, more experimental corners. The Melvins’ penchant for the absurd, those weird, snaking structures and off-kilter tempos perfectly balances Napalm’s blunt-force trauma. This is clever stuff that prevents the record from ever settling into a "business as usual" grindcore routine. Nine Days Of Rain is a particular standout; it’s a slow-building monolith that moves with a sticky, inevitable momentum, suggesting a world that is slowly, beautifully drowning in its own noise.
The mid-point of the album, anchored by Rip The God, is where the "Imperial" tag really earns its keep. It’s a five-minute sprawl that feels properly, unpleasantly massive. The production is dirty, raw, yet strangely clinical enough to hear every string bend and snare crack. It manages to capture the raw, honesty of their live sets (the kind I saw from both bands in Norwich) while draping it over a cinematic canvas. The guitars don't just cycle through riffs; they construct a vast, shifting architecture of noise that feels like it’s vibrating your teeth out of your head.
The back half, Stealing Horses, Comparison Is The Thief Of Joy, and the finality of Death Hour is a relentless march toward the abyss. Comparison Is The Thief Of Joy is a biting, high-velocity jolt that targets the modern era’s digital anxieties with a level of vitriol that feels entirely earned. It’s the sound of a collective that has seen every trend come and go and decided to set fire to the rulebook one more time.
When the feedback finally dies on Death Hour, you’re left sitting in a quiet that actually hurts. This collaboration isn't a victory lap; it's a documented riot from two bands who still have more to say than the entire 'next big thing' crowd combined. It’s the kind of record that proves forty years of grime can’t be faked, and honestly, the thought of hearing at least parts of this under the midday sun in Daytona makes the upcoming Florida heat seem like a minor inconvenience.
The Melvins, on the other hand, are a much more recent excavation for me. I managed to miss the boat on them for decades, and I still don’t understand how that happened, until I finally caught them live in Norwich. As I noted in that review, seeing them in a room that small was an experience; it was the sound of a band that has spent forty years mastering the art of the "sludge-heavy crawl," proving that the "grunge" label they’re often saddled with is far too small for the noise they actually make.
So, the prospect of Savage Imperial Death March, a full-length collision between the Birmingham grindcore pioneers and the Washington sludge kings is less of a "collaboration" and more of a tectonic event. This isn't just two bands sharing a split; this is a total fusion of architectures.
The record opens with Tossing Coins Into The Fountain Of Fuck, and immediately, the logic of the project becomes clear. It starts with a classic Melvins-style rhythmic stumble, a thick, fuzzy groove that feels like it’s being dragged through the mud before Napalm Death’s high-velocity vitriol cuts through the centre. It’s an awesome, disorienting friction. You have the "glacial" weight of Buzz’s riffs acting as a foundation for the unmistakable, guttural roar that heralds Napalm Death’s arrival. It’s a masterclass in the balance of beauty and brutality, delivered with a pedigree that most bands can only dream of.
As we move into Some Kind Of Antichrist and Awful Handwriting, the record starts to reveal its darker, more experimental corners. The Melvins’ penchant for the absurd, those weird, snaking structures and off-kilter tempos perfectly balances Napalm’s blunt-force trauma. This is clever stuff that prevents the record from ever settling into a "business as usual" grindcore routine. Nine Days Of Rain is a particular standout; it’s a slow-building monolith that moves with a sticky, inevitable momentum, suggesting a world that is slowly, beautifully drowning in its own noise.
The mid-point of the album, anchored by Rip The God, is where the "Imperial" tag really earns its keep. It’s a five-minute sprawl that feels properly, unpleasantly massive. The production is dirty, raw, yet strangely clinical enough to hear every string bend and snare crack. It manages to capture the raw, honesty of their live sets (the kind I saw from both bands in Norwich) while draping it over a cinematic canvas. The guitars don't just cycle through riffs; they construct a vast, shifting architecture of noise that feels like it’s vibrating your teeth out of your head.
The back half, Stealing Horses, Comparison Is The Thief Of Joy, and the finality of Death Hour is a relentless march toward the abyss. Comparison Is The Thief Of Joy is a biting, high-velocity jolt that targets the modern era’s digital anxieties with a level of vitriol that feels entirely earned. It’s the sound of a collective that has seen every trend come and go and decided to set fire to the rulebook one more time.
When the feedback finally dies on Death Hour, you’re left sitting in a quiet that actually hurts. This collaboration isn't a victory lap; it's a documented riot from two bands who still have more to say than the entire 'next big thing' crowd combined. It’s the kind of record that proves forty years of grime can’t be faked, and honestly, the thought of hearing at least parts of this under the midday sun in Daytona makes the upcoming Florida heat seem like a minor inconvenience.
It's a total, feedback-soaked triumph that leaves you reaching for the repeat button before your ears have even stopped ringing. 9/10
Truckfighters - Masterflow (Fuzzorama Records) [Rich Piva]
I was lucky enough to see Truckfighters on their last US tour. For a band that has been around for a few decades now they certainly can still bring it. The energy on that stage was amazing and the band is in top form. They are as nice as humans are as they are a great band, having gotten to meet them as well during the show. Now the band is back with a new record, Masterflow, which is more fuzzy desert rock goodness you expect from these legends.
This is studio album number six from the Swedish band, that sometimes gets a bit taken for granted on how influential they are to the scene today with all of the killer material they have given us so far in their amazing career. Masterflow continues this string of awesome, right off the bat with the opener, Old Big Eye, you know you are in for some more Truckfighters fuzzy goodness. I love the guitar work (of course) and the record sounds excellent from a production standpoint. The Bliss continues this, with it soaring fuzz and earworm qualities.
Truckfighters - Masterflow (Fuzzorama Records) [Rich Piva]
I was lucky enough to see Truckfighters on their last US tour. For a band that has been around for a few decades now they certainly can still bring it. The energy on that stage was amazing and the band is in top form. They are as nice as humans are as they are a great band, having gotten to meet them as well during the show. Now the band is back with a new record, Masterflow, which is more fuzzy desert rock goodness you expect from these legends.
This is studio album number six from the Swedish band, that sometimes gets a bit taken for granted on how influential they are to the scene today with all of the killer material they have given us so far in their amazing career. Masterflow continues this string of awesome, right off the bat with the opener, Old Big Eye, you know you are in for some more Truckfighters fuzzy goodness. I love the guitar work (of course) and the record sounds excellent from a production standpoint. The Bliss continues this, with it soaring fuzz and earworm qualities.
I love the chunkiness of Carver and all of its weird changes while Truce reminds me of the first QOTSA record in all the best ways (with another cool and weird tempo change too). The longish interlude title track leads to the straight ahead desert ripper The Gorgon, which may be my favourite track on Masterflow. Gath is a weird one, but is growing on me after being the only real skip for me on the record. The one-two punch of Bad Horse and Goin’ Home is vintage Truckfighters and a solid way to end their first album of new material in ten years. I especially love Dango’s work on the closer.
Is Masterflow going to be anyone’s favourite Truckfighters record? Probably not. Do we hold these guys to an unfair standard because of how awesome all of their stuff is? Yup. Masterflow is an excellent addition to a near perfect discography for one of the most influential bands in the desert rock scene ever. Nine new tracks, all of them good to great, with the trademarked Truckfighters fuzz and vibe. It’s great to have new material from these legends, especially songs this good. 8/10
Ten East/Softsun - Turned To Stone Chapter 10 (Ripple Music) [Spike]
The "split album" has always been a bit of a gamble, half the time it’s a marriage of convenience between two bands who share a van, and the other half it’s a lopsided affair where one side clearly ate the other’s lunch.
Is Masterflow going to be anyone’s favourite Truckfighters record? Probably not. Do we hold these guys to an unfair standard because of how awesome all of their stuff is? Yup. Masterflow is an excellent addition to a near perfect discography for one of the most influential bands in the desert rock scene ever. Nine new tracks, all of them good to great, with the trademarked Truckfighters fuzz and vibe. It’s great to have new material from these legends, especially songs this good. 8/10
Ten East/Softsun - Turned To Stone Chapter 10 (Ripple Music) [Spike]
The "split album" has always been a bit of a gamble, half the time it’s a marriage of convenience between two bands who share a van, and the other half it’s a lopsided affair where one side clearly ate the other’s lunch.
But every once in a while, the format provides a look into a specific creative hot streak that a single LP simply can’t contain. That is exactly what’s happening on Turned To Stone Chapter 10. This isn't just a pairing of two Gary Arce projects; it’s a documented "era", a sprawling, reverb-drenched trip through the California desert that blurs the lines between SoftSun’s melodic weight and Ten East’s improvisational grit.
As someone who spent a good chunk of time with SoftSun's Daylight In The Dark on repeat, the first half of this record feels like catching up with an old friend who hasn't quite finished their story. The three tracks here Nowhere Else, Open Shelter, and Emotional Overdrive were born from the same productive window as their debut, and they carry that same "soft punch" that I’ve come to love from this lineup.
Nowhere Else sets the threshold. Pia Isaksen’s vocals have this crystalline, pained clarity that reminds me of why I first fell in love with this sound, but the way her bass locks in with Dan Joeright’s drumming provides a tectonic foundation that most "ethereal" bands lack. It leads into Emotional Overdrive, which is the standout of the SoftSun side for me. It manages to capture that specific, road-weary exhaustion of the desert at sunset, a sound that is as much about the space between the notes as it is about the fuzz.
The real magic of this release, however, is the way it handles the hand-off. Usually, a split feels like a hard reset, but because Pia plays in both bands and Gary Arce is the primary architect on both sides, the transition into the Ten East material feels entirely organic.
Ten East has been quiet since 2016’s Skyline Pressure, and their return on First Light and Slow Motion War II is a masterclass in why we still care about the "Palm Desert" sound. It’s experimental, loose, and rooted in the "let the tape roll" philosophy that has always been at the heart of Arce’s work. Adding Isaiah Mitchell of Earthless to the mix on additional guitar is like pouring high-grade gasoline onto a slow-burning fire; it adds a layer of technical, psychedelic friction that keeps the improvisational stretches from ever feeling self-indulgent.
Slow Motion War II is the record’s atmospheric anchor. It’s named after the transcontinental Interstate 10, and you can feel the geography in the production. The guitars construct a vast, shifting architecture of noise that feels like a heat mirage shimmering over the asphalt. It moves with a mechanical persistence that suggests a band that has internalised the rhythm of the highway. It’s honest, unpolished, and possesses that "first-take" energy that you just can't manufacture in a high-gloss studio.
The production keeps the grit under the fingernails of the tracks. It’s a raw-boned, "no safety net" sound that allows the delicate, clean guitar lines to sit perfectly alongside the low-end churn. It sounds like a band playing in a room that is too small for the noise they’re making, which is exactly how this music should be experienced.
By the time the Ten East side eventually dissolves into static, you realize that the distinction between these two projects is purely academic. SoftSun and Ten East are simply different shades of the same heat haze. It’s a lush, beautifully dark edged triumph that prioritizes the physical sensation of the sound over empty technicality, and honestly, it's one of those rare finds that feels like it was written specifically for my own headphones.
As someone who spent a good chunk of time with SoftSun's Daylight In The Dark on repeat, the first half of this record feels like catching up with an old friend who hasn't quite finished their story. The three tracks here Nowhere Else, Open Shelter, and Emotional Overdrive were born from the same productive window as their debut, and they carry that same "soft punch" that I’ve come to love from this lineup.
Nowhere Else sets the threshold. Pia Isaksen’s vocals have this crystalline, pained clarity that reminds me of why I first fell in love with this sound, but the way her bass locks in with Dan Joeright’s drumming provides a tectonic foundation that most "ethereal" bands lack. It leads into Emotional Overdrive, which is the standout of the SoftSun side for me. It manages to capture that specific, road-weary exhaustion of the desert at sunset, a sound that is as much about the space between the notes as it is about the fuzz.
The real magic of this release, however, is the way it handles the hand-off. Usually, a split feels like a hard reset, but because Pia plays in both bands and Gary Arce is the primary architect on both sides, the transition into the Ten East material feels entirely organic.
Ten East has been quiet since 2016’s Skyline Pressure, and their return on First Light and Slow Motion War II is a masterclass in why we still care about the "Palm Desert" sound. It’s experimental, loose, and rooted in the "let the tape roll" philosophy that has always been at the heart of Arce’s work. Adding Isaiah Mitchell of Earthless to the mix on additional guitar is like pouring high-grade gasoline onto a slow-burning fire; it adds a layer of technical, psychedelic friction that keeps the improvisational stretches from ever feeling self-indulgent.
Slow Motion War II is the record’s atmospheric anchor. It’s named after the transcontinental Interstate 10, and you can feel the geography in the production. The guitars construct a vast, shifting architecture of noise that feels like a heat mirage shimmering over the asphalt. It moves with a mechanical persistence that suggests a band that has internalised the rhythm of the highway. It’s honest, unpolished, and possesses that "first-take" energy that you just can't manufacture in a high-gloss studio.
The production keeps the grit under the fingernails of the tracks. It’s a raw-boned, "no safety net" sound that allows the delicate, clean guitar lines to sit perfectly alongside the low-end churn. It sounds like a band playing in a room that is too small for the noise they’re making, which is exactly how this music should be experienced.
By the time the Ten East side eventually dissolves into static, you realize that the distinction between these two projects is purely academic. SoftSun and Ten East are simply different shades of the same heat haze. It’s a lush, beautifully dark edged triumph that prioritizes the physical sensation of the sound over empty technicality, and honestly, it's one of those rare finds that feels like it was written specifically for my own headphones.
This isn't just a record I'm ticking off a list; it’s a permanent addition to the rotation, a heavy, shimmering reminder that even in the most parched landscapes, the desert still has plenty of secrets left to share. 9/10
Purple Skies - A Million Years (Apollon Records) [Rich Piva]
Purple Skies bandcamp bio calls the band “Proto doom from the Norwegian Wild West”. Yes and yes, I can get behind this description, as proto and doom rule the day on A Million Years, the debut album from the band from Bergen, Norway. The nine tracks on A Million Years harken back to the late 60s/early 70s from a proto, psych, and even a bit of prog point of view. The guys seem to love Sabbath too, so there is something for everyone who digs cool as hell old school heavy ass, yet mid-tempo rock.
I love how this record was recorded, as it sounds right out of the era that the songs sound like they emanate from. The closest comparison I can give would be the amazing record from Australian band Butterfly (RIP) and their killer record from Doorways Of Time from 2021. You get riffs, you get cool vocals, you get all of that and more with the proto track Mr. Fear, which is some wonderful Sabbath worship, and Bitchcraft, which is soaring early 70s hard rock wonderfulness. I love the riff on Quiet Flowers and the kind of chill vibe that it brings, as well as the epic closer Red Road, that is the perfect closer to this proggy proto trip. There is not a skip on the record, and the songs flow perfectly across all nine that are included on A Million Years.
The Seventies are alive and well, especially in Norway, as all that is old is new again with some killer heavy rock coming out of that region. The debut from Purple Skies included, as it is one of the stronger records leveraging all that goodness so far in 2026, and one of the better debuts you will hear this year. 8/10
Purple Skies - A Million Years (Apollon Records) [Rich Piva]
Purple Skies bandcamp bio calls the band “Proto doom from the Norwegian Wild West”. Yes and yes, I can get behind this description, as proto and doom rule the day on A Million Years, the debut album from the band from Bergen, Norway. The nine tracks on A Million Years harken back to the late 60s/early 70s from a proto, psych, and even a bit of prog point of view. The guys seem to love Sabbath too, so there is something for everyone who digs cool as hell old school heavy ass, yet mid-tempo rock.
I love how this record was recorded, as it sounds right out of the era that the songs sound like they emanate from. The closest comparison I can give would be the amazing record from Australian band Butterfly (RIP) and their killer record from Doorways Of Time from 2021. You get riffs, you get cool vocals, you get all of that and more with the proto track Mr. Fear, which is some wonderful Sabbath worship, and Bitchcraft, which is soaring early 70s hard rock wonderfulness. I love the riff on Quiet Flowers and the kind of chill vibe that it brings, as well as the epic closer Red Road, that is the perfect closer to this proggy proto trip. There is not a skip on the record, and the songs flow perfectly across all nine that are included on A Million Years.
The Seventies are alive and well, especially in Norway, as all that is old is new again with some killer heavy rock coming out of that region. The debut from Purple Skies included, as it is one of the stronger records leveraging all that goodness so far in 2026, and one of the better debuts you will hear this year. 8/10
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