Album Review : Speak for the Dead "Speak for the Dead"
Santa Rosa,
California has a long history of spawning uncompromising underground music, but
few new acts arrive with the sheer velocity and grit that Speak for the Dead
unleash on their self-titled debut. Formed in 2024 by lifelong friends Jordie
Hilley and Clay Prieto—both also part of California Oi! institution
Resilience—the band complete their lineup with Eric Lundgren, a seasoned
vocalist known for his work in thrash and metal-leaning punk projects, and Nick
Parker, a young but devastatingly precise guitarist who lives up to the press
release’s “six-string samurai” title. What results is a ferocious fusion of
d-beat, crust, street rock ‘n’ roll, and thrash-driven hardcore that proudly
flies the motorcharge flag while refusing to simply imitate its forebears.
The album
opens with “Whatever It Takes…,” a short but explosive introduction built on
layered noise, rumbling bass frequencies, feedback, and pounding drums. Rather
than easing the listener in, it functions like a starting pistol. Within
seconds, the record makes its intentions clear: this will not be polite, clean,
or restrained. It’s a sonic gutter crawl that perfectly sets up “The World We
Know,” the album’s first full track and arguably its thesis statement. The main
riff roars in with the swagger of early Motörhead, driven by a bass tone that’s
warm, gritty, and constantly moving, paired with vocals that carry Lemmy’s
attitude without mimicking his rasp. Lundgren’s voice is clearer than expected,
but never melodic to the point of softness—it’s authoritative, gritty, and
forceful, delivering lines like street sermons rather than punk sing-alongs.
“Fighting in the Pit” follows with a title that doesn’t exaggerate. This track is built for impact: tight rhythms, hammering guitar chugs, and a drum performance that doesn’t let the energy dip for a single measure. It’s the kind of song that in a live setting would immediately pull a crowd into motion, igniting circle pits without needing a second invitation. “Rearview Riot,” the fourth track, offers the album’s first shift in texture, opening with a wah-soaked bass line that’s surprisingly bluesy in delivery, recalling Zeke’s wild rock-punk solos before exploding back into chaos. Here, the vocals distort and saturate more aggressively, especially in the chorus where layered gang-shout backing vocals create a rallying-cry effect. The mid-section breakdown—bass, drums, and a melodic solo—adds depth without disrupting the album’s pacing. Instead of feeling like filler, it reads like a breath taken before another punch.
“Headwound,”
positioned at the midpoint, hints at Metallica’s early thrash energy,
especially in its breathing, galloping tempo, but with punk venom injected
directly into its spine. It’s sharper, faster, and rawer than any arena-metal
influence it borrows from, transforming familiarity into something far more
volatile. “Take Back the Streets” embraces classic 80s street metal riffing but
delivered through a crust-punk lens: grimy, distorted, and anti-establishment
in every sense. It’s nostalgic without being derivative, a clever balance that
keeps the record feeling timeless rather than retro.
“Lights
Out” showcases the drummer’s true skill, blending fast double-kick accents,
razor-sharp snare work, and intelligent fills that feel more thrash-educated
than crust-accidental. The song momentarily evokes Megadeth’s controlled
aggression—especially in its rhythmic precision—but the band twist it back into
hardcore punk urgency with a megaphone-filtered vocal passage that leads into a
gang-vocal chorus reminiscent of 90s hardcore collectives. It’s an interesting
hybrid that demonstrates how Speak for the Dead refuse to be boxed into a
single era or subgenre.
Tracks like
“Dread” and “Eternal Night” lean harder into hardcore and crust territory,
slightly less rock ‘n’ roll and more raw punk assault, but still cohesive
within the album’s core identity. Finally, the title track “Speak for the Dead”
closes the album with its darkest, heaviest moments. It opens with an almost
death-metal atmosphere—slower, heavier, ominous—before charging back into the
band’s trademark motor-punk attack. The finale merges heavy, layered riffs with
pounding drums that hit like closing credits to a dystopian war documentary, a
fitting end for an album obsessed with anti-authority, existential frustration,
and underground rebellion.
For a
debut, Speak for the Dead is shockingly confident. It doesn’t attempt to
reinvent punk or metal, but it does something arguably harder: it welds their
most dangerous elements together seamlessly, creating a sound that’s
recognizable, but never predictable. Fast, filthy, loud, and emotionally
charged, this is a band worth watching—not because they’re doing something
completely new, but because they’re doing something honest, powerful, and
painfully necessary. The only real mystery left is not what they sound like
now, but how much heavier and faster they might become next.
Speak for the Dead (@speakforthedead707) • Photos et vidéos Instagram
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