Casket –  In The Long Run We Are All Dead

Milo Lane

There is a particular mindset required to sit down with a Casket record. Not preparation exactly — more like consent. An agreement with yourself that what follows will not ask politely, will not soften its edges, and will not care whether you are ready. Pressing play felt like anticipation braided tight with a certain resistance. I wanted this record. I knew I would also probably fight it.

Casket have been doing this long enough to sound unconcerned with proving anything, and that confidence seeps out within the first moments of the record. The album does not announce itself. It simply arrives. Riffs emerge like machinery starting up behind concrete walls — distant at first, then unavoidable. There is no cinematic intro, no invitation. You are simply inside it now. What struck me early on was how controlled everything feels. This is not chaos masquerading as extremity. The pacing is deliberate, the transitions measured. Even when the songs lean into relentless forward motion, there is a sense of restraint — like a clenched fist rather than a flailing arm. It made me listen more closely than I expected to. I kept waiting for the cracks, for indulgence, for something to spill over. It rarely does.

Here is where I have to admit something about myself — something I keep learning the hard way: I love death metal right up until it starts drilling into my skull. Casket walk that line with unsettling precision, to the point where I don’t know which drawer in my head to put them in. The guitars are thick, low, and punishing, but never sloppy. The riffs don’t show off; they endure and insist. There is a density of sound that borders on claustrophobic, yet it’s assembled with care. Every chug, every tremolo-picked phrase feels placed, weighed, and approved. This is not a “turn everything up and let it bleed” type of album. It is more like a form of architecture. And still — there were moments where I caught myself pulling back, mentally flinching at the sheer endurance test of it all. Not because it’s bad, but because it’s effective. Because sustained aggression, when done this cleanly, forces a kind of confrontation I’m not always eager to have. The drums especially push this tension — precise, almost clinical, locking everything into a march that refuses release. No swing. No looseness. Just pressure. A real Hell on Earth for the crazies.

Then there are the vocals. Concerning the reaches of death metal, this is where the “hate” part of my love-hate arrangement stems from. The growls are deep, commanding, unwavering — exactly what they should be. And that is precisely the problem. There are stretches where the voice feels less like expression and more like an additional percussive instrument, hammering alongside the guitars. Sometimes I crave that — the way it erases ego, turning the human voice into texture. Other times, I miss breath. I miss space. I miss the feeling that someone is speaking to me rather than through me.

And yet, when I step back, I realize this discomfort is part of the design. Casket are not interested in courting listeners like me. They are carving a lane and driving straight through it. The vocals aren’t there to decorate. They make the music heavier by refusing to soften it with personality. That’s a choice — one I don’t always love, but one I have learned to respect. This is not an album that blooms emotionally in obvious ways. Its power lies in repetition, in insistence, in the slow accumulation of weight. A snowball of old-school brutality. The production reinforces that: thick but not muddy, brutal but not careless. Everything sits where it should, which again brings me back to that word — discipline.

I can imagine this record being difficult to reproduce live, not because of complexity, but because of precision. The studio here feels like a controlled environment, every texture layered with intent. But that doesn’t feel like a limitation. It feels like a statement. Like the band knows exactly what they want this material to be, and refuses to compromise it for the sake of rawness or spectacle. By the time the album ended, I wasn’t exhilarated. I was steadied. Ground down in a way that felt strangely honest. Casket don’t chase transcendence or novelty — they commit to form, to weight, to the unglamorous labor of making heavy music well. And in that commitment, there is authenticity.

This is not an album that tries to win you over. It doesn’t care if you flinch at the vocals or grow tired of the head-drilling repetition. It exists in its own truth, and listening to it means deciding whether you’re willing to meet it there. I’m still not sure where I land emotionally with this record — and maybe that’s the point. It doesn’t resolve my love-hate relationship with death metal. It sharpens it. But in doing so, it reminds me why I keep coming back: for the craft, for the conviction, for the moments when resistance gives way to respect. Still, I’ll be there if they play near me. Earplugs in pocket. Doubts intact. Respect unquestioned.

Label: Neckbreaker Records

Release date: January 23, 2026

Website:https://casketdeath.bandcamp.com

Country: Germany

Score: 3.5/5.0