Mastodon are a band well-acquainted with loss, having written records like ‘The Hunter’ and ‘Emperor of Sand’ for, and often about, departed loved ones— the sludge metal crew just dedicated 2021’s ‘Hushed and Grim’ to their beloved manager Nick John, but alas, tragedy is never far from Sanders and company. The departure and passing of founding member Brent Hinds shook the band, and their fans, to the very core, and you can feel his absence all across new album ‘Marrow Deep.’ It’s poetic that this, their first release without him, might just be their best since Hinds’ masterpiece, 2009’s ‘Crack the Skye.’

Where ‘Hushed and Grim’ saw fit to wallow in despair and agony for the entirety of its 86-minute runtime, ‘Marrow Deep’ is much more spirited and urgent. Though grief is undeniably a core thematic pillar supporting these twelve tracks, Mastodon are making a bold statement of forward movement with this one: there’s as much anger, contemplation and hope woven into the album as there is pain, and that mix of emotions speaks to a band who’re forging ahead undeterred. Brent Hinds’ unique vocal style and dominating lead guitar parts are no-where to be found, of course, and in his place, Sanders and company have enlisted the help of all-manner of metal stars. You’ve got Geezer Butler providing a striking introduction to ‘The Vanishing,’ you’ve got Gojira’s Joe Duplantier and Lamb of God’s Randy Blythe screaming their guts out, you’ve got Clutch’s Neil Fallon stealing the show on ‘The Three Fates,’ and when all is said and done, ‘Marrow Deep’ manages to feel rather triumphant, even in spite of its sombre circumstances.

That sense of onward momentum is also brought by new members Nick Johnston and João Nogueira, who may not be Brent Hinds, but aren’t trying to be. You’ll find a lot of material across these twelve tracks that sounds unlike anything in Mastodon’s back catalogue, and even if the band have always found room for experimentation on every album, it’s hard not to credit the new guys, who bring so much inspiration and passion to the project. Old-school prog rock was clearly a huge point of inspiration for the dizzying jam on ‘They’re Coming For You’ and the bold use of keyboards all over lead single ‘Your Ghost Again,’ and it’s safe to say that Johnston and Nogueira positively dominate every chance they’re given to come into the forefront. Their respective solos on ‘Out Like a Lamb’ alone should be proof enough that Mastodon are as comfortable as a five-piece as they ever were— of remaining members Sanders, Kelliher and Dailor, you already know how impeccable their performances will be going in.

What Mastodon have delivered us, then, is a six-track run to kick their latest release off that is nigh-on untouchable: for as interesting and ambitious as a lot of this material can be, the band simultaneously manage to harken back to the grinding riffs of ‘Leviathan’ and ‘Blood Mountain,’ making sure not a single fan is lost in the shuffle. Ever since 2002’s ‘Remission,’ the group have always known how to make an entrance, and ‘Barbarians Blood’ is up there with their finest openers— everything, from its imposing doom metal choruses to its slick time signature changes, is pure perfection, and the stunning mixture of slamming sludge riffs and out-and-out emotion pouring from the following ‘Poisonous Weapons’ isn’t lagging far behind. There truly is something for everyone, whether you’re inclined to latch onto the soaring chorus of ‘Snakes for Dinner’ (which would’ve fit seamlessly onto ‘Emperor of Sand’) or the pure desperation of ‘In the Ruins.’ Mastodon want not for phenomenal riffs, as ever.

The excellent writing and powerful performances continue into the second half, as you might expect, and though ‘Marrow Deep’ is prone to the occasional wobble as it marches forth, the song craft on display is nonetheless wonderful. ‘Moth and Bone’ is an obvious standout, with its heavenly acoustic guitar parts and echoing synth leads sounding entirely unlike anything else Mastodon have ever penned: ‘The Vanishing,’ with its psychedelic instrumentation and Black Sabbath-esque vocal effects, is another one that’ll have you questioning what band you’re listening to, and it’s another beautiful tune to boot. You could take issue with the pacing on ‘Golden Spires,’ with the unnecessarily fearsome ending to ‘Moth and Bone’ or with Kurt Ballou’s production if you wished to, and it would certainly be fair to say that ‘Marrow Deep’ begins to outstay its welcome as it draws to a close. But even in their unsteadiest moments, Mastodon are hitting you with some of their heaviest riffs in years on ‘A Vampire’s Demeanour’ and ‘They’re Coming For You,’ and they’re a joy to behold.

The only song here really deserving of a critical eye is ‘The Three Fates,’ which continues the group’s time-honoured tradition of lengthy, epic album closers— this one isn’t quite up to par with, say, ‘The Last Baron’ or ‘Jaguar God’ though. Past the cut’s monstrous intro and that hilariously theatrical Neil Fallon feature, the song spends its time searching for a retro prog jam that never quite comes together in a satisfying way: it’s this track, more than any other, that has ‘Marrow Deep’ feeling a little self-indulgent. At least the song does tie nicely into the record’s themes of death and spirituality though, which are concepts Mastodon are fully committed to here. Brent Hinds’ passing dominates the conversation— neither the mourning of ‘Your Ghost Again’ nor the bitter vengeance of ‘Poisonous Weapons’ can escape his absence— but his is not the only tragedy the band are contending with, as the death of Brann Dailor’s mother and the destruction of Troy Sanders’ home in a hurricane come into focus on ‘The Vanishing’ and ‘In the Ruins’ respectively. Like they’ve always done, the group are baring their souls for all to see.

‘Marrow Deep’ is a massive record, and just as its title implies, it’ll cut you right to the bone. It’s the sound of a band with their sights set into the future, but also of one who haven’t forgotten where they’re coming from: it’s a sludge metal epic, full of as many towering metal blasts as heartbreaking lyrics. Rest in peace to Brent Hinds, and long live Mastodon.