At a certain point (probably somewhere around the ‘Wrath’ and ‘Resolution’ era in the early 2010s), Lamb of God earned themselves a reputation as ‘the ACDC of groove metal’— speaking frankly, it’s an honest claim. Though the band are yet to drop a true dud of a record, it’s plainly obvious that the likes of 2020’s self-titled and 2022’s ‘Omens’ were not the sound of a group in the process of reinvention. Now in 2026, Blythe and company have done it yet again: despite its minor protestations, ‘Into Oblivion’ does little to truly uproot the Lamb of God formula.

The group’s tenth studio album certainly wears a new coat of paint, but that controversial logo redesign is hardly indicative of some overarching change in direction from the Virginia-based crew. No, what got the community’s ears pricked up was lead single ‘Sepsis,’ which sounded unlike anything Lamb of God had even attempted before. Now that the full record is here, we’re disappointed to report that the track stands alone. Where the band normally specialise in technical barrages and racing thrash metal grooves, ‘Sepsis’ beats you down under its grimy bass lines and smothering waves of distortion and dissonance. Blythe hasn’t sounded this menacing and desperate on the mic since 2015’s ‘VII: Sturm und Drang,’ and the rest of the group haven’t tried anything this daring or left-field since then either. To its credit, ‘Into Oblivion’ gets off to an incredibly strong start, running through its first three singles back-to-back-to-back. The opening title track is an unusually grandiose one for Lamb of God, painting those classic phrygian-style riffs and howling vocals in an anthemic light— ‘Parasocial Christ,’ meanwhile, exudes all the aggression of a song from 2003’s ‘As The Palaces Burn.’

It’s after this exhilarating three-song run that the band begin to take their foot off the gas: the remaining seven tracks that make up ‘Into Oblivion’ aren’t terrible, but they’re unlikely to excite anyone but the most diehard of fans. ‘The Killing Floor’ trots its way through all the writing devices and flourishes that made Lamb of God such an iconic force in groove metal, and you’d have to admit that it executes them all efficiently. Still, it’s really only the cut’s hyper-precise breakdown that feels worthy of note— in its tones, vocal cadences, ‘we are all doomed’ lyrical themes and overall construction, the song is a slave to two-decade old records. In 2026, formulaic regurgitations like ‘St. Catherine’s Wheel’ and ‘Blunt Force Blues’ (which echoes ‘To The Grave’ so hard it hurts) just aren’t going to cut it anymore: at this point, so many records deep into their careers, it really feels like Blythe and company are becoming a parody of themselves. Lamb of God make that clear on ‘Bully,’ where you can practically hear the group desperately trying to write something heavier and more gripping than their restrictive style will allow for— the song winds up taking a kitchen-sink approach to riff-writing, and the band’s formula escapes unscathed.

Of course, the record is more casual in its songwriting than it is in its performances: though Lamb of God don’t quite have the fire in them that made 2004’s ‘Ashes of the Wake’ so hair-raising, you’d be hard-pressed to argue that the group aren’t still excellent musicians. If ‘Into Oblivion’ belongs to anyone, it’s to Art Cruz, who feels more at home here than he ever did on ‘Omens’ or the self-titled— his playing is full of daring twists and flashy turnovers, but it’s the way Cruz is able to inject so much drive and venom into these songs that feels most remarkable. As for the rest of the group, it’s mostly business as usual (though that’s not such a bad thing in this instance). Randy Blythe’s vocals haven’t aged a day, dominating both the subdued verses and the raucous hooks of ‘El Vacío:’ the track may seem unable to pick a direction, but at least it gives the band ample time to show off. Lamb of God are seasoned performers at this point, and you can tell listening to ‘The Killing Floor’ and ‘Devise / Destroy.’ That won’t save either song from obscurity though.

The frustrating thing about ‘Into Oblivion’ isn’t just how derivative of previous albums it can be, but how close it comes to breaking free of that mould. ‘Sepsis’ is a remarkable curveball from the group that feels more alive and overwhelming than anything they’ve made in the past decade: if only Lamb of God had been confident enough to commit to a more radical change of pace, we might’ve said the same for the new album in its entirety. ‘Into Oblivion’ does everything you’d expect from Blythe and company, but it’s certainly not as ballsy or harrowing as ‘Ashes of the Wake,’ or even as consistent as 2022’s ‘Omens.’ It is, for better or for worse, more of the same.