“Misery is a delicate lace, silence as it covers my face.”
It’s a slightly unsettling feeling that we’re encroaching on four years since Spiritbox’s debut LP, Eternal Blue. Feeling equally like a single day and an entire lifetime ago, the Canadian quartet’s rise on the lead up to (and following on from) the release of that LP felt like one of those lightning-in-a-bottle watershed moments for the culture surrounding heavy music that you only see once every few years. Spiritbox’s unavoidable ubiquity in conversations surrounding alternative music as a whole in the years following is a testament to just what that record did for the group, and their continual rise through the release of the two following EPs, Rotoscope and The Fear Of Fear, proved wholly that they were certainly no one-trick pony.
However, even considering the momentum that those EPs helped the band carry following their meteoric debut album, even resulting in two Grammy nominations, the difficult conversation of the sophomore record; the true follow-up album, was bound to happen sooner rather than later. After all, there’s something slightly more weighted in an LP, isn’t there? While EPs and standalone singles often offer bands the ability to experiment more freely and find their footing, there’s always the expectation that your follow-up album is to be more than that – the next step up from your previous work. Whilst I certainly felt as though the EPs following Eternal Blue certainly did live up to that expectation, the wild variety in styles between the two certainly lended an affirmation to that adage, that the band were eager to experiment in the shorter form a tad longer before delving into the dreaded sophomore LP.
It’s a difficult thing to stick the landing on, but given the group’s aforementioned momentum – not just in their artistry, but also their growth – I feel, and clearly the band share the sentiment, that there is truly no better time than now to dive headfirst into this truly defining new chapter as a unit. To posit a hypothetical, then, did they stick the landing? Is 2025’s Tsunami Sea truly the planetary follow-up that Eternal Blue deserves? Is that even what it seeks to be? These questions are hard to posit without breaching slightly into the entitled territory, but I believe all the same they’re valid as hypotheticals. This is a monumentally huge release from one of the most hyped names in the genre, serving as the true follow-up to the big watershed moment that got them here in the first place.
The answer is somewhat nuanced, lying somewhere between a softly affirming yes and a deeply impassioned abso-fucking-lutely yes, dependent on your angle. The truth is that the intention on Tsunami Sea is wholly different to that of Eternal Blue. Whilst that record saw Spiritbox venture slightly ashore from their outwardly prog and tech-metal roots into a slightly more digestible slice of modern metalcore, albeit with a boatload more grace than many bands in the genre, Tsunami Sea seeks to throw out the playbook and subvert expectations from top to bottom.
Allow me to pull back for a moment: this is not all to say that Tsunami Sea is groundbreaking and experimental goliath. What it is, however, is a phenomenally strong slice of modern progressive metalcore, and one that indulges aspects of Spiritbox’s sound that have been sorely missed since their venture away from their proggier roots. It’s apparent from the singles alone that the approach here is different – we’re clearly slightly less concerned with commercial viability here. Of course there is commercial viability strewn all across this thing, with a great number of deep cuts here destined to be stadium-screamers in due time, but there seems to be a broader intention of deeper artistry here that runs deep to the core of Tsunami Sea.
Each and every track across Tsunami Sea displays an intention and purpose, with cascading layers of texture and atmosphere to drink in at every turn. It’s an overwhelmingly dense offering with a lot to absorb, but beyond that, there is certainly something further notable here: how unrelentingly heavy this thing is. From its opening moments of “Fata Morgana” and “Black Rainbow”, we’re treated to some of the most belligerent and ignorant moments that Spiritbox have put to record yet. Returning in full force, too, is the combination of teched-up djent riffs and glassy, Milton Cleans-esque guitar tones that permeated the band’s early recordings, which add such a beautiful and haunting texture each time they’re used. It provides a unique flair, too, as Spiritbox so effortlessly bridge the gap between their sounds, old and new.
The thing, too, is that this is anything but an exercise in regression. Spiritbox’s intention seems to be to re-embrace their past alongside the lessons they’ve learned in songwriting in the years since. What we see as a result is possibly the strongest offering this band has put forth to date, all the while being the most honest and honed-in representation of themselves as artists yet. This could not be more apparent than in late-album cut “A Haven With Two Faces”, which truthfully would not feel out of place if it were released on 2017’s Spiritbox EP, but there’s something more to it than that. There’s a refinement in the songwriting, the structure, the production, and everything in between that makes it truly feel like the most complete version of this sound, and this notion is carried across every facet of Tsunami Sea’s broad-reaching vision.
Further curveballs are thrown in the mix across the album, with “Crystal Roses” (following on from one of the band’s most ridiculously heavy cuts to date in “No Loss, No Love”) seeing the band exploring the worlds of UK garage and DnB, with their own unique flair, to remarkable results. The album’s cinematic penultimate track, “Ride The Wave”, impresses too, sitting somewhere in the interstice between a slick ‘90s film score and a killer alternative metal number, only to be turned on its head entirely by its second half as it ushers in one of Tsunami Sea’s most wanton and ballistic moments. Closing number “Deep End” similarly pushes the boat out, offering an unexpectedly bright, bouncy and hopeful departure for such an intense and deeply brooding record, feeling like a slightly more grounded and accessible take on the sounds of happy djent bands like Karmanjakah.
The impressive thing through all this, too, is that it’s clear Spiritbox haven’t lost or abandoned their knack for a keen arena-filler. Tracks like “Perfect Soul”, “Keep Sweet” and title track “Tsunami Sea” all stand as some of Spiritbox’s strongest melodic cuts yet, and manage to keep the deeply dark spirit of the album alive throughout. Nothing feels out of place, and that’s a truly positive comment to have after one of my main qualms with Eternal Blue was that the record felt closer to a collection of singles than a truly considered album experience. Not here, though, as every track seems to be sequenced with the utmost consideration of flow – the truest album experience possible.
The sophomore album is a truly difficult thing to broach – a sentiment that I am sure almost every single artist can agree with. There’s an old adage that you have your entire life to write your debut album, and only 18 months to write your second, and not only have Spiritbox valiantly denied that classification, but they’ve deftly side-stepped its detracting notions, giving themselves the necessary years of experience since Eternal Blue to hone their craft and create something truly special. What results, then, is Tsunami Sea: a phenomenally good metalcore record that may possibly stand as Spiritbox’s most artistically accomplished work to date, all the while not outwardly sacrificing the commercial viability that turned them into the two-time Grammy-nominated superstars they are today.
9.5/10
Tsunami Sea is due for release Friday, 7th March via Pale Chord/Rise, and you can find pre-orders for the album here.