Straight outta the rust-bloated Midlands where Sabbath riffs still hang in the smog, Master Charger come stomping in with Posthumous Resurrection, and it don’t ask for permission. It just lands. Like a war drum echoing from a burnt-out biker chapel.
They’ve been at it since ‘06—long enough to have ditched the polish and learned how to drag riffs through filth with style. This one doesn’t evolve. It decomposes, like the corpse of doom bloated and beautiful. Sludge? Yeah, in spades. Blues? Sure, but it’s bad-luck blues. Bar-fight blues. Roadkill-on-the-blacktop blues.
The whole record groans under its own weight – guitar tone thick as concrete, bass lines like molasses laced with iron filings. Vocals sound like they’re coming through a busted P.A. from the bottom of a mine shaft. None of it feels clean. That’s the point.
Forget your playlists. This isn’t some polished doom-lite podcast background noise. This is the sound of wheels turning slow, rusted, and righteous. There’s something mean in here. Something that doesn’t want to be liked. And thank fuck for that.
Tempos crawl, riffs slam, grooves dig in deep and don’t let go. But this ain’t caveman stomp either – they know when to pull it back, when to let the smoke rise before the next hit lands. There’s shape in the chaos, just buried under the grime.
Production is raw as hell. Feels like someone mic’d the amp with a tin can in a haunted garage. But it works. It adds to the whole doomed preacher vibe – like these songs weren’t recorded, they were summoned.
Posthumous Resurrection ain’t trying to win over anyone. It’s already playing to the lifers. People who get what it means when a band sounds like they’re dragging the blues behind a hearse. Master Charger aren’t new. They’re necessary.
Follow Master Charger on Facebook
Released by Octopus Rising on May 2, 2025
Music source for review – Grand Sounds PR
