Imperialist – Prime
Release Date: 5th September 2025
Label: Transcending Obscurity
Bandcamp
Genre: Black Metal, Technical Death Metal, Thrash.
FFO: Maveth, Behemoth, Panzerchrist, Ulcerate, Immolation.
Review By: Malte Brigge
The pitiless void of space suits black metal’s penchant for ice, emptiness and despair, while the android precision and dramatic flair of tech death aligns with laser-wielding sci-fi themes. Imperialist ask, “why not both?” Their logo has a touch of “stay tech” while their art sets castles, towers and despondent impulses against stark stellar settings. Their first two critically-acclaimed albums, Cipher (2018) and Zenith (2021), forged an identity of heavy, dense black metal rimmed with impressive technical chops. 2023’s EP Quantum sped things up to prep the launch pad for Prime (with stunning foldout artwork by Eliran Kantor), a Dan “the man” Swano-mastered juggernaut of space-based desolation, distress and enough riffs to wrap around a distant planet deep in the throes of self-destruction.
Prime proudly leans into the galloping thrashiness that had become more pronounced on Zenith. Memorable, pointillist riffs litter the landscape, while Sergio Soto’s sandpaper shrieks present many terrible ways ancient, distant civilizations find their end. Rod Quinones’ drumming keeps a tight grip on the reins, and Joshua Alvarez’s bass rolls comfortably but formidably around Soto and Bryant Quinones’ aggressive twin-axe attack. The album explores similar themes to Nyktophobia, Wills Dissolve and Assemble the Chariots but shares musical DNA from such diverse acts as labelmates Vorga, Immolation and even shades of Exocosm. There’s not quite the lunacy of Vektor nor the fully blackened singe of Immortal, but it calls on elements of each in a framework akin to Frozen Dawn. Such a pool of inspiration prevents genetic bottlenecking and deleterious mutations. Swano’s spacious, spirited mix allows each instrument a distinct voice even as songs lightspeed by with neither rest nor caesura nor pause.
Imperialist avoid the wall-of-riff approach by laying foundations with one guitar that allow the other to attack with slick tremolos, serrated riffs or open chord structures. Tremolo structures shift into galloping bridges (Starstorm, Depravity Beheld); slick mid-tempo grooves swing out of and back into hull-shuddering blast beats (Final Hours, Nocturnal Eon) which slip into powerful downstroke rhythms punctuated by massive bursts of energy (A Ghost Abandoned) or shatter into riffy mosaics (Beneath the Sands of Titan, Union of the Swarm). Plenty of space is granted to supple solos that either light the rocket’s fuse or wail bittersweet, mournful dirges. The technical riffage on Beneath the Sands of Titan (a shoo-in for my top 50 songs of 2025) especially sets my heart aflutter as it pirouettes into blast-beaten tremolos which evolve naturally into a half-time feel supporting a guitar solo that almost collapses in on itself. There are no slow songs (save the two-minute interlude Heavens Sunder) but enough slowdowns to keep the sonic maelstrom from feeling like a template-based riff-platter.
If one thing holds the album back, it’s that songs are sometimes mouthpieces for telling mildly interesting stories rather than compositions designed to burst blood vessels. Not quite but close to a concept album, Prime regales you with tales of AI sentience, “remaining survivors wander(ing) aimlessly”, “facing an ancient beast”, prophecies, zealotry, the “arena where innocence ends”, Galactus (or some “force of endless hunger…from beyond the cosmic depths”) and, in general, “disaster embrac(ing) them all”. Lyrics aren’t afraid of clichés and delivery can be a little hokey at times, with too much slack in the line to maintain the tension between story and song. Though there’s no track I feel the need to skip, A Ghost Abandoned and Depravity Beheld feel like they are constructed more for story rather than music, and songs like I A.M. and Final Hours could trim clunky spoken word sections and overlong verses that delay payoffs. Soto’s catlike rasp articulately conveys these narratives but rarely alters in delivery. He’s not one-note, though, sometimes diving into gravity-well death growls, whipping gang vocals violently around your head (Nocturnal Eon) or harmonizing an icy growl with a truly Halfordian wail (3:15 on Final Hours). I understand the band don’t want to turn their tricks into tropes, but more of this vocal variety and less narration might make this a top-tier album.
Prime is pretty good, nudging up against great. Though it stalls in places, it more often than not thrills, and the musicianship is excellent. The album feeds its 45-minute runtime healthily, but less exposition would make it incisive. Aside from the tone and speed, there isn’t much that’s predictable—songs twist into unanticipated flight patterns, guitar solos sometimes shoot out of nowhere, the drums break into surprising rhythmic displacements, all of which tells a dynamic story that, warts and all, is worth listening to.
(3.5 / 5)
