To The Grave – Liberation Front
Release Date: 2nd October 2026
Label: BLKIIBLK
Order
Genre: Deathcore
FFO: Signs of the Swarm, Worm Shepherd, A Night in Texas.
Review By: Jeff Finch
Disclaimer: I’m not a vegan, but if I was personally being confronted by the anger, rage, and seemingly limitless vitriol spewed forth from the throat chords of lead vocalist Dane Evans and his backing band of ethically sourced psychopaths, I’d seriously consider it. One does not need to be a vegan to enjoy the band, nor does one even have to have a strong opinion of it, the knowledge of their stance already known worldwide so that when a listener hears references to slaughter, mutilation, unending cruelty, there’s a well-established foundation to the pain behind the lyrics and pure ferocity in the delivery. Though this one doesn’t quite reach the apex of their album Director’s Cuts, it’s another slab of killer deathcore that continues to place the band among the very best in the genre.
What drives me to the band faster than other bands not named Whitechapel is the vocals. What Dane Evans can do with his vocals should be illegal in 43 states and 117 countries, a shrieking monstrosity one moment and gutter-dwelling hell spawn the very next. Most impressively is that listeners can pull lyrics from the chaos fairly simply (comparatively speaking), the aforementioned themes presenting in spades and piercing the sonic wall to eviscerate listeners even further. One needn’t look past Nail Mary to get the full scope of ire in one track, Evans imploring the legalization of human murder, dismantling the slaughterhouses and massacring those running them, nail(ing) them to the fucking walls. A song whose laser focus is the pure evisceration of human scum rife with buzzsaw guitars, some of the deepest growls on the record, and breakdowns heavier than the gates of hell slamming shut, the final resting place for these dead bodies to rot for eternity.
Songs like Calf Slicer take everything great about the band and flaunt it from the opening riff to the final growl, that elevated sense of vengeance and hostility never wavering, shrieks and gutturals layered in such a way as to rip one’s head clean in half, musical apexes that end in sonic explosions, distortion so extreme it’s as if the speakers have blown out and the band just keeps chugging along trying to outdo themselves in the “just how fucking heavy can we make this song” category, which they appear to take quite seriously in the waning moments of Limb from Lamb, a primitive and altogether unforgiving guttural stretched out for so long that one loses sight of the fact that that’s not a guitar or a work of production magic; that is a gurgle from the churning flames of hell.
As for the cruelty-free freneticism making this trip through the bowels along with Dane Evans, there’s very little to say about the band that isn’t already well known: the riffs are spectacularly chunky, the production turning them into weapons of aural destruction, the bass tuned so low it might very well be communicating with the whales without our knowledge, and the percussion an onslaught of stop-start rhythms, halftimes, and blast beats to complement whatever part of the pissed-off spectrum the band finds themselves in at any given moment.
Simply put, this record will knock your head clean off, undoubtedly the very thing the band was aiming for, metaphorically for their fans and quite literally for the unsavory, unscrupulous monsters running these slaughterhouses. Unlike their prior full length, there don’t appear to be any lyrics considered cringeworthy, just 39 minutes of hatred and a palpable desire to inflict maximum harm on their targets.
(4.5 / 5)
