Sometimes, you just want music that doesn’t waste your fucking time. No long intros, no atmospheric build-up, no moody orchestral nonsense. Just riffs, sweat, beer, and volume. That’s what The Usurper delivers with The Seventh Circle — thirteen tracks of old-school Thrash Metal fury that hit like a sledgehammer to the teeth and don’t let up for a single second. This is Thrash distilled to its purest, dirtiest, most primal form — and I fucking love it.
From the very first riff, you know what you’re in for. There’s no subtlety here, no pretense of innovation or reinvention. Instead, The Usurper tear through your speakers like they’ve been possessed by the unholy ghosts of Venom, Celtic Frost, Motörhead, and Judas Priest — dragging their snarling, riff-soaked corpses into the 21st century and setting them on fire for good measure. Every track feels like it was written with one purpose: to make you thrash until your neck gives out and your beer hits the floor.
There’s a glorious precision to the performance that gives the whole album its charm. It’s not “perfect,” but it’s alive — that sort of raw, sweaty energy that too many modern metal bands polish right the fuck out of existence. The guitars snarl and grind, soaked in distortion and attitude, while the bass rumbles like a Harley engine revving under the gates of Hell. The drumming doesn’t just keep time — it propels, it threatens, it commands. It’s Thrash as it was meant to be: reckless, wild, and unapologetically filthy.
And let’s talk about the vocals. There’s that classic Venom-esque bark, dripping with attitude and sneering contempt for everything holy. It’s not about range or precision; it’s about conviction. You believe every word spat into the microphone, every barked lyric sounding like a challenge to the world to try and keep up.
What makes The Seventh Circle stand out, though, is its discipline. Thirteen tracks, and not a single one overstays its welcome. Most clock in around the three minute mark — get in, destroy, get out. There’s no fluff, no self-indulgent solos dragged out for minutes on end. Just riff after riff after riff, stacked like bricks in a wall of pure, unrelenting energy.
This is the sound of Hell, leather jackets, sweat-drenched mosh-pits, and amps cranked so loud you can feel your organs vibrate. It’s a love letter to the roots of metal — the bastard child of punk and the devil himself.
The Seventh Circle doesn’t ask for permission. It kicks the fucking door in and starts breaking everything it can lay its hands on.
The Seventh Circle is available from The Usurper Bandcamp page.
CHOICE CUT: Turn Your Cross
BLACK METAL ARCHIVES VERDICT: Pure, unfiltered Thrash the way it’s meant to be played — fast, loud, and dangerous. The Seventh Circle by The Usurper is 13 tracks of headbanging chaos that proves Thrash Metal is alive, kicking, and ready to tear your face clean off.
