By the gods of thunder and circuitry, I have found it. A land uncharted. A kingdom carved from distortion and fire. They call it "Re-Evolution". The natives go by the name DEVILSKIN, and I believe I’ve stumbled upon their magnum opus. This is not a recording; this is a living, breathing beast built from anguish, muscle, and melody.
My first encounter sounded primal and exacting, it surged through me like a blood oath. No preamble. No mercy. It felt as if I had stepped barefoot into a ritual I couldn’t comprehend. Jennie Skulander’s voice summoned gods I do not know by name. She doesn’t sing; she conjures. From delicate echoes to banshee wails, she maps the terrain of pain and triumph without a compass.
The terrain shifted and a sandstorm of riffs and percussion, scorching and relentless. I ducked for cover and found none. The album continues like an oasis, but even its waters shimmered with unrest. I began to understand, this album is built on contrast. Rage and grace live in twin towers here, each echoing the other’s scream.
Themes emerge of grief, addiction, phobia, decay. They’re not presented as artifacts to be examined. They’re alive, stitched into every note. DEVILSKIN aren’t storytellers. They are the storm and the wreckage, the ghost and the grave. Somehow, this doesn’t collapse under its own weight. It rises. "Re-Evolution" does not wallow in despair, it devours it, digests it, and builds something stronger from its bones.
The instrumentation is staggering. Paul Martin’s bass feels tectonic, shifting the very ground beneath this strange new world. Nic’s drumming isn’t just rhythm, it’s language. As for Nail, his guitar doesn’t merely shred. It paints. Cinematic, chaotic, sacred.
The production by Dave Rhodes is not a studio trick. It’s cartography. Every drum hit, every breath of feedback, every gasp in the silence, it all feels placed with ritualistic intent. The landscape is dense, yet navigable. Foreign, but familiar in that way danger sometimes is.
I came expecting metal. I found "Re-Evolution". A culture. A movement. An awakening.
If you dare tread here, tread carefully. There is no safe passage. Only fire, truth, and the most glorious noise I’ve ever survived.
Score: 9 / 10 – "Machete in Hand, Shirt Long Torn Off" - Words: Matt Denny
My first encounter sounded primal and exacting, it surged through me like a blood oath. No preamble. No mercy. It felt as if I had stepped barefoot into a ritual I couldn’t comprehend. Jennie Skulander’s voice summoned gods I do not know by name. She doesn’t sing; she conjures. From delicate echoes to banshee wails, she maps the terrain of pain and triumph without a compass.
The terrain shifted and a sandstorm of riffs and percussion, scorching and relentless. I ducked for cover and found none. The album continues like an oasis, but even its waters shimmered with unrest. I began to understand, this album is built on contrast. Rage and grace live in twin towers here, each echoing the other’s scream.
Themes emerge of grief, addiction, phobia, decay. They’re not presented as artifacts to be examined. They’re alive, stitched into every note. DEVILSKIN aren’t storytellers. They are the storm and the wreckage, the ghost and the grave. Somehow, this doesn’t collapse under its own weight. It rises. "Re-Evolution" does not wallow in despair, it devours it, digests it, and builds something stronger from its bones.
The instrumentation is staggering. Paul Martin’s bass feels tectonic, shifting the very ground beneath this strange new world. Nic’s drumming isn’t just rhythm, it’s language. As for Nail, his guitar doesn’t merely shred. It paints. Cinematic, chaotic, sacred.
The production by Dave Rhodes is not a studio trick. It’s cartography. Every drum hit, every breath of feedback, every gasp in the silence, it all feels placed with ritualistic intent. The landscape is dense, yet navigable. Foreign, but familiar in that way danger sometimes is.
I came expecting metal. I found "Re-Evolution". A culture. A movement. An awakening.
If you dare tread here, tread carefully. There is no safe passage. Only fire, truth, and the most glorious noise I’ve ever survived.
Score: 9 / 10 – "Machete in Hand, Shirt Long Torn Off" - Words: Matt Denny
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