From the frozen lands of Sweden—a region long synonymous with extreme metal—Deathkrush arrive fully formed and utterly merciless with their debut album, Plague Protocol. This is not a tentative first statement or a cautious introduction to the genre; it is a full-scale invasion. The band presents the album as a manifesto, and it earns that description with terrifying conviction. Every riff, every blast beat, and every guttural roar feels engineered to convey inevitability: collapse is coming, resistance is futile, and survival is not guaranteed. Plague Protocol is less an album than a grim forecast, a sonic prophecy that imagines humanity’s next great reckoning and drags the listener screaming into its centre.
The atmosphere Deathkrush conjures is relentlessly suffocating. From the opening moments of “Marching into Hell,” the listener is submerged in a soundscape thick with ash and dread. The guitars grind with a serrated edge, tuned low and delivered with surgical precision, while the drums batter forward like an unstoppable war machine. There is no room to breathe, no melodic reprieve designed to comfort—only a constant sense of forward motion toward annihilation. Vocals erupt from the mix like a dying civilisation’s last broadcast, guttural and commanding, less a narrator than an executioner announcing the end. This is death metal in its most uncompromising form, rooted in tradition yet sharpened for a modern world teetering on the brink.
The title track, “Plague Protocol,” stands as the album’s thematic core and chilling thesis statement. Here, Deathkrush fully unveil their apocalyptic vision: skies darkened beyond recognition, a viral tide seeping into every breath, and a world where cure, sanctuary, and mercy are myths long forgotten. The composition mirrors this narrative perfectly. Riffs churn with mechanical hostility, suggesting systems running long after humanity has lost control of them. The drumming is chaotic and disciplined, evoking the cold efficiency of a protocol enacted without regard for individual lives. As the song unfolds, it becomes clear that Plague Protocol is about inevitability, the terrifying calm of knowing that the end is already in motion.
“Bleeding Oracle” and “Last Breath” deepen the album’s sense of cosmic fatalism. These tracks feel almost prophetic in tone, as though the band is channelling warnings carved into stone rather than written in ink. “Bleeding Oracle” suggests forbidden knowledge leaking into a dying world, its riffs twisting and contorting like truths too heavy to bear. “Last Breath,” by contrast, slows the tempo just enough to let the weight of extinction sink in. It feels intimate and vast at the same time, capturing the final moments of a species aware of its own erasure. Deathkrush excel here at pacing—knowing when to accelerate into chaos and when to let the silence between notes feel just as devastating.
One of the album’s most striking narrative moments arrives with “Ashes of the Crown.” This track explores the aftermath of power’s collapse, the remnants of authority reduced to smouldering ruins and dangerous truths. Musically, it carries a regal decay, with riffs that feel monumental yet hollow, like abandoned thrones echoing in empty halls. The song reinforces the album’s central idea: that systems built on dominance and control are fragile illusions. No crown survives the plague, and no ruler escapes the fire. Deathkrush deliver this message without moralising; they simply present the wreckage and let it speak for itself.
As the album surges toward its final act, tracks like “Extinction” and “The Collapse” push the intensity even further. These songs feel less like individual compositions and more like chapters in a single, unbroken catastrophe. “Extinction” is brutal and efficient, a sonic execution that leaves no room for hope. “The Collapse” expands the scope outward, imagining borders dissolving, governments crumbling, and the last remnants of order tearing themselves apart. The production shines here—raw yet cinematic, allowing every instrument to cut through the chaos while still contributing to the overwhelming sense of destruction. It’s a balance few debut albums achieve, and Deathkrush handle it with alarming confidence.
“No Redemption” and the closing track, “Final Curse,” seal humanity’s fate with merciless finality. There is no last-minute salvation, no heroic stand against the darkness. “No Redemption” strips away any lingering illusions of escape, its relentless pacing and crushing riffs reinforcing the album’s core philosophy: once the protocol is enacted, there is no turning back. “Final Curse” serves as the album’s tombstone, a grim epilogue written in fire and shadow. It feels ceremonial, as though Deathkrush are lowering the curtain on the human era itself. When the final notes fade, what remains is silence—and the unsettling sense that the story might not be entirely fictional.
With Plague Protocol, Deathkrush deliver a debut that feels timeless and terrifyingly current. Drawing from the rich legacy of Scandinavian death metal while addressing modern anxieties—pandemics, societal collapse, and the fragility of civilisation—the band crafts a work that resonates far beyond its genre boundaries. This is an album for listeners who crave extreme sound not just for its aggression, but for its ability to confront uncomfortable truths. Plague Protocol is a descent into the abyss, a contagion of sound and vision that spreads long after the final track ends. Deathkrush have issued a warning, and it echoes with apocalyptic clarity.
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