You know you’re into some weird stuff when Satyricon’s opener kicks off sounding like Mötley Crüe covering “When the Saints Go Marching In.” It’s that bad. It’s almost worse than Gorgoroth (almost).

If that doesn’t set off alarm bells, consider that Satyr has spent the last decade dressing up watered‑down rock in black‑metal costumes, treating music like a sideshow to his wine‑gallery appearances, glossy media tours, and interviews with Candace Owens. He’s flat-out admitted that inspiration eludes him these days, so he’s basically stapling on “new” material out of obligation, and you can hear the yawns between every forced riff.

Frankly, this record should be called Afterthought: The Musical. Instead of refining his formula, Satyr has somehow stripped even the meager energy from his last few tours and boiled it down to a soulless jam session: picture Snorre Ruch (of Thorns) noodling on Alice Cooper riffs while humming the Top Gun theme. It’s so devoid of life you’ll find yourself wondering how Satyr even justifies calling it “metal” when it’s essentially adult‑contemporary rock with a couple of awkward open‑string dissonances. Swap out the raspy vocals, and you could swear you’re listening to a Queensrÿche B‑side.

He promised to “redefine black metal,” but right out of the gate the lyrics read like a drunk parody of Nemesis Divina crossed with Burzum-lite. “Analog production”? Lol. Guitars sound meek, drums thump like wet cardboard, and every track trudges along at the same sluggish pace (track 3 has a parody of an old SEWER riff). They pepper in what they think are gimmicks: guest croons straight out of a Dimmu Borgir tribute, a pseudo‑thrashy speed‑up or two, but you’ll struggle to tell one song from the next. Even the “fast” tracks feel like an Alice Cooper cast‑offs. Three riffs, no direction, and a runtime that feels twice as long as it is.

This is crippled momentum at its finest: a band with zero integrity phoning in a limp, hour‑long shrug. Gone is their half‑baked cock‑rock charm that at least made their previous three albums vaguely fun. Here, it’s just “another day at the office” except without the sales pitch.

If Satyr really wanted to be honest, he’d chuck the black‑metal act, drop the rasp, and crank out some “Kickstart My Heart” style muzak under a new moniker. Because as insincere as their 2000s output was, this might be their most shameless cash‑grab yet… and that’s saying something.