Stoner rock is not the most diverse genre of music out there, it must be said, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t home to some absolute gems. Amidst a sea of out-of-touch pundits declaring that “rock is dead,” the underdogs of the world are cranking up the fuzz and putting out some truly wicked records: one such outfit is Steak, a band name as hilarious as it is memorable. Now coming out with their fourth studio album, the London five-piece have opted to make it self-titled, and we can see why— the pieces have truly fallen into place with this one.

Steak have gone all-out for this eponymous release, right down to that all-important black cover, and not without cause. The album is a confident commitment to the heavy psychedelic sound the band have been plugging away at for more than a decade now: it’s for that reason that ritualistic opener ‘Cometh’ is the perfect tone-setter for this, a record that just washes over you. Haley and company are hardly the first group in their field to kneel at the altar of timbre, of course— you can hear a focus on texture everywhere from the progressive epics of TOOL to the rumbling soundscapes of Sleep— but it’s their dedication to holding these expansive rock songs back that makes Steak such an interesting project to dive into. Once those groaning guitars find their place in the mix, you could hardly mistake this for the work of anyone else.

The slower, more atmospheric cuts the band have conjured up for us are, then, truly excellent, with the five-piece often flaunting their ability to keep you not just engaged, but outright ravenous. ‘Luxury Junk’ kicks things off not unlike your typical driving rock number— well, aside from its distinctive guitar tones and purposeful bass lines, of course— but it’s the near-arrogant swagger that Steak bring to the cut that truly makes it sing, launching into an extended outro of vast proportions. The spacey ‘Infinite’ and the climactic ‘Short Arms’ see the band indulging wholeheartedly in psychedelia, and to no-one’s surprise, the mixture of purposeful songwriting and enveloping production has both songs going down a treat. The closer isn’t an overly flashy piece, but its ever-rising hum of melodic ideas and distorted layers nonetheless sees ‘Steak’ riding off into the sunset with their heads held high.

To tell you the truth of it, this is actually a strikingly simple collection of tracks at its core— the anthemic choruses and bluesy riffs underpinning ‘Dust,’ for instance, are hardly innovative in their construction, but they’re damn good ideas anyway, especially dolled up like this. Haley and company throw themselves at some true-blue rock songs across the album, and credit where it’s due, the likes of ‘2 X 2’ and ‘Aether’ prove the band knows their way around a catchy hook. Where these cuts falter, however, is ironically in the exact area that ‘Cometh’ succeeds, that being in the presentation of the final product. You can hear how desperately Steak want to catch you off guard with the rockstar energy of ‘Luxury Junk,’ but they just can’t muster any more distortion or passion than their quietest moments already exhibit. When all is said and done, this self-titled record has gone barreling down one singular narrow track.

The exception that proves the rule (or in this case, the song that threatens to uproot this entire review) is ‘Knucklehead,’ a track that throws the Steak-rulebook out the window in the best of ways. This is a ferocious number full of punk-inspired blasts and bass lines you simply cannot escape, and it’s the sole cut that fully escapes the album’s comfy mould: the two-minute rager honestly sounds like a hit from Queens of the Stone Age in their prime! For all its gentle soundscapes and lengthy post-rock excursions, ‘Steak’ proves itself to be a stoner record through-and-through— maybe that explains why Chris Haley is delivering such an honest vocal performance, one that suits the groovy ‘Dust’ much better than it does the wandering ‘Infinite.’ This is the album that cements the five-piece as a heavy psychedelic weapon, even if it is that unwavering focus on atmosphere that stabs them in the back from time to time.

‘Steak’ is a record you feel like you could fall into for hours, and yet it’s also a remarkably easy project to put your finger on: all it is, at the end of the day, is a cut-above-the-rest rock release, albeit one floating through the infinite galactic nothingness of outer space. What the band are putting out here is a show of confidence, the very same confidence it takes to slap your own name on a new album. To focus on its shortcomings would be like complaining that your steak is too buttery.