Every now and then, an album comes along that doesn’t just kick you in the teeth — it rebuilds your skull in its own image. Haunt by Hexvhs is that kind of record. It’s the sound of industrial decay meeting biker-bar swagger, a molten cocktail of venom, distortion, and pure fucking attitude. If Rob Zombie and Al Jourgensen ever went on a bender together, kidnapped Zakk Wylde halfway through, and decided to make a record about their collective mental collapse — this is probably what would come out the other side.
And yet, that description doesn’t even get close. Because Haunt isn’t just some stitched-together Frankenstein’s monster of influences; it’s a beast with its own black heart, pounding with fury and groove. Borg — the unhinged mastermind behind Hexvhs — doesn’t borrow from anyone. He steals, burns, and rebuilds until it’s something unholy and uniquely his.
From the first distorted hum, you know you’re in for a rough fucking ride. The guitars don’t crunch — they detonate. They’re thick and grimy, loaded with swamp sludge and gasoline, while the drums pound with machine-like precision that could make Ministry blush. And Borg’s vocals? Jesus wept. They’re a rasping, venomous assault, spat through clenched teeth with enough bile to corrode metal. Every line sounds like it’s being screamed from the depths of an oil-stained pit — equal parts rage, despair, and divine madness.
But beneath all that fury lies groove. That’s the bastard trick Haunt plays on you. You expect relentless violence, but you get hooks — actual hooks — buried in the filth. Tracks grind forward with the swagger of a rusted-out V8 tearing down a desert highway. The riffs swing, the bass throbs like a migraine, and the percussion keeps everything stomping forward in a haze of smoke and neon decay. It’s heavy enough to level a building, but there’s rhythm in the ruin.
And that’s where Borg really shines. He knows that chaos without purpose is just noise. So he gives every scream, every drum hit, every riff a pulse. The result is an album that feels alive, breathing and seething, as if the world itself is infected with whatever virus he’s been cultivating in his soul.
Haunt is not just a record; it’s an exorcism. Borg has poured every drop of fury, frustration, and dark brilliance into these tracks, and what’s emerged is something primal and unstoppable.
Haunt demands your attention, your blood, your bones. It’s an ugly, beautiful, inferno that drags you down and makes you thank it for the suffering.
Haunt is available from the Hexvhs Bandcamp page.
CHOICE CUT: You’re in the Grave Like Me.
BLACK METAL ARCHIVES VERDICT: Haunt is filthy, furious, and fucking phenomenal — a monster with a beating black heart and riffs that could crack concrete. Borg isn’t just making music; he’s summoning something from the void.
