This record is built from long jams. You can hear it immediately. Parts don’t snap into place — they grow, lean, sag, then lock. Riffs stay around longer than they need to. Drums don’t chase change. They sit and grind. The band lets repetition do the work.
The guitar tone is thick but not foggy. Fuzz with edges. When it pushes, it pushes slow. When it pulls back, it leaves space instead of drama. Leads don’t show off. They hover, bend, disappear, come back wrong. The bass stays present the whole time, not flashy, just heavy enough to keep the songs from floating away.
This isn’t doom in the funeral sense. It’s pressure doom. Weight that moves forward inch by inch. Stoner parts groove but never relax. Psych parts don’t drift — they spiral. You can tell the trio has played these songs together a lot. Transitions don’t announce themselves. They just happen because everyone turns at the same moment.
Vocals change shape depending on what the music needs. Sometimes distant. Sometimes rough. Sometimes layered until words stop mattering. They’re another texture, not the focus. The record works even when you stop paying attention to them.
The progressive side shows up in the structures, not in technique. Songs stretch. Sections return altered. Nothing gets cut short to make a point. This album trusts its own pacing, even when that pacing is uncomfortable.
Compared to the debut, Wormholy World sounds more decided. Less wandering. Same jam-core, but tighter grip. You get the sense they know exactly how heavy they want to be and how long they want to stay there.
This isn’t background music. It demands time. Not because it’s complex, but because it refuses to hurry.
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Released by Octopus Rising on February 6th 2026
Music source for review – Grand Sounds PR
