LAMB OF GOD

Let's deal with the elephant in the room first. LAMB OF GOD have changed their logo. Never has it been more important not to judge a book by its cover, because "Into Oblivion" may be the best album the band have made in more than a decade. Unfortunately, both the new logo and this album's artwork are really, really bad. Change is not necessarily a bad thing, but quite what possessed anyone to approve the clunky font and faux futuristic art (that, presumably, LAMB OF GOD are now duty bound to persevere with) is a mystery for the ages. Maybe late '90s Photoshop collages are making a comeback. But probably not.

Fortunately, the music on "Into Oblivion" is a thousand times better than the new logo might suggest. LAMB OF GOD have been impressively consistent over the years, and even their less celebrated albums have been blessed with enduring anthems and robust deep cuts, but their last few records have largely lacked the explosive charisma of past triumphs like "Sacrament" (2006) and "Wrath" (2009). Whether prompted by a collective desire to create a new milestone or simply encouraged by the general state of things to get rowdy and nasty again, "Into Oblivion" is the most ferocious and spiky thing LAMB OF GOD have produced in years. The opening title track is a monstrous, groovy thrasher with a pitch-black soul; "Parasocial Christ" is a seething storm of self-hatred and disdain, with some of the heaviest riffs in the Americans' recent history; recent single "Sepsis" is a snarling, predatory sludge monolith, with some of the most vivid and grotesque imagery Randy Blythe has ever summoned with his poison pen: "Holy Mother Death, rising up from Mexico / To cast her rictus grin across the wilted amber waves below…" When the song suddenly picks up speed, it sounds like LAMB OF GOD circa 20 years ago: brutal, arrogant and mean.

Hostility suits LAMB OF GOD. "Into Oblivion" still makes occasional detours into unfamiliar territory and confirms that evolution is still ongoing, but the overall impression given is of a band with plenty of ugliness and horror to unload. "The Killing Floor" is an archetypal maze of riffs and super-precise rhythmic syncopation, but one that hits harder and with more venom than expected. "El Vacio" is a darker and more enigmatic entry in the LAMB OF GOD songwriting story, with Randy's much-improved clean vocals resonating over downbeat, sinister guitar figures and near-chewable, simmering tension. The lyrics pay hazy tribute to some fallen anti-hero — MASTODON's Brent Hinds springs most readily to mind — and reveal a more thoughtful and grimly emotional side to this band's furious poetry.

The second half of "Into Oblivion" keeps the energy up and the teeth sharp. "St. Catherine's Wheel" offers a masterful blend of full-bore riffing and chilling atmosphere; "Blunt Force Blues" is stealthy, punishing and gloriously pissed off, with a razor-sharp ensemble groove and final crescendo that spit and hiss with real menace; and the self-explanatory "Bully" dissects the soulless momentum of corruption over a string of huge, burly riffs that steal from the blues and twist the outcome into gruesome, angular shapes. "You lay down with dogs," Randy roars, "and you rise up with fleas…" It doesn't take a genius to work out who / what is being sung about, and the swaggering, discordant riffs make the same point in a less tangible way. The world is fucked, and LAMB OF GOD are surfing waves of calamity all the way to the bitter end. Next, "A Thousand Years" gives "Into Oblivion" a second sidestep into more melodic territory, but in tandem with Randy's newly incensed lyrical stance. "So unleash the dogs of war / To fill my crimson glass / Drink deep from bloody shores / Dominion and collapse…" is one hell of a line, and the riffs that underpin it are uniformly smart and devastating. Even better, the closing "Devise / Destroy" tackles the crushing, oppressive weight of negativity, with a brutish, mid-paced forward charge and a frantic, feral vocal from Blythe.

Their aesthetic choices may be questionable, but there is no denying that LAMB OF GOD are on blistering form here. This is their finest album since (at least) 2015's "VII: Sturm Und Drang" and a vigorous restating of their original values, albeit with a few refined and sophisticated elements thrown in to keep the creative fires blazing. It would be easy to take a band of this stature for granted, but LAMB OF GOD are still eminently capable of commanding the metal world's attention.