If you survived the onslaught of 2017’s ‘Lawless Age’, you already know Weapönizer don’t do things by halves. It’s been a minute since that full-length, and aside from the taste of blood left by last month’s rampaging single ‘Victory’, the silence from the camp has been deafening. But the wait is officially over. Dropping on limited vinyl via Ale Wülf Tapes, ‘The Steel Beast’ is here to remind everyone what dirty, unfiltered extreme metal sounds like when it’s forged far away from digital gloss and triggered studio perfection.
Sonically, this record hits like a freight train. Pete deBoer’s mix captures that visceral, amp-bleeding grit without sacrificing instrument separation, while Brad Boatright’s mastering gives the low-end push just enough analog warmth to keep the teeth sharp without choking the dynamic headroom. The guitar tone sits firmly in that sweet spot of mid-range chainsaw crunch and razor-wire treble, drawing heavily from the classic playbook of First-Wave Black Metal and high-velocity Thrash Metal. Jorden Rex’s bass doesn’t just double the guitars; it anchors the chaotic momentum with a subterranean rumble that cuts right through the mix like a rusted blade.
When the needle drops on the title track ‘The Steel Beast’, you’re immediately hit with a relentless wave of Speed Metal urgency and Metalpunk sneer. Justin Kelly’s lead work avoids over-polished fretboard gymnastics in favor of dissonant, whammy-bar-abusing dive-bombs and frantic tremolo picking that sound like they’re being played on the absolute edge of a cliff. Behind the kit, the drumming shifts seamlessly from galloping thrash beats to bruising d-beats, driven by snare snaps that echo like gunshots in a concrete bunker. Vocally, Rex delivers a throat-ripping rasp soaked in just enough reverb to sound unhinged, riding the crest of the wall of sound.
If there’s any constructive critique to level at the production, it’s that the sheer velocity of the mid-album cuts leaves virtually zero breathing room, occasionally crowding the high frequencies when the tempos push into hyperspeed. But honestly, in a subgenre built on hostility and sweat, that slight claustrophobia just adds to the authentic underground charm.
This isn’t some nostalgic exercise or a sanitized retro imitation; it’s a living, breathing slab of Black/Thrash Metal crafted for dark basements and sweaty pit casualties. Turn it up until the speakers start smoking.
