Review: “Lonely People With Power” merges blackgaze fury with dreamy introspection

By Arman Saxena     4/8/25 11:27pm

Score: ★★★★½

Key Track: “Winona”

Fifteen years into a storied career that’s crisscrossed the boundaries of black metal and shoegaze, Deafheaven has found a way to once again outdo themselves. “Lonely People With Power” feels like a triumphant return to the band’s blackgaze roots, fusing massive walls of guitar-driven sound with whispery dream-pop interludes, recalling their classic album trio of the 2010s (“Sunbather,” “New Bermuda” and “Ordinary Corrupt Human Love”). It also bears the learned refinements of “Infinite Granite,” the 2021 album where they dabbled more boldly in cleaner vocals and atmospheric passages. 

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In short, this is Deafheaven’s best merger of beauty and brutality yet. From the very first listen, “Lonely People With Power” immerses you in a maelstrom of roaring distortion and angelic ambiance. George Clarke’s screeches dominate once again, weaving seamlessly into the guitars and thunderous drumming. 

Any trace of the more subdued approach from “Infinite Granite” is tempered by a renewed aggression, reminiscent of 1990s Scandinavian black metal (think Immortal or Bathory). Still, there’s a lush undercurrent reminiscent of Deftones and Neurosis at their most ethereal. The result is an album that’s as dense as a collapsing star and as emotionally raw as it is epic. 

“Doberman” kicks off the album, showcasing the synergy of black-metal urgency with Clarke’s introspective, almost depressive lyricism. It’s a progressive metal–tinged track that dances between blasts of sound and eerily sparse moments. Clarke shrieks about surveillance under a “panopticon,” wrestling with guilt and existential dread while the band roars around him. 

Next, “Magnolia” brings a thrash-tinged swirl, propelled by Daniel Tracy’s lightning-fast drums. This track bears the imprint of classic black metal but filters it through a more open, melodic lens. Lyrically, it’s a letter to a father figure — or maybe a lost loved one — grappling with how beliefs and identities can be shaped without our consent. Clarke howls with a mix of longing, frustration and tenderness, all underscored by pummeling guitar riffs that surge between sorrow and ferocity. It’s an unrelenting barrage, but one that hits the listener right in the heart as well as the ears. 

“Heathen” shifts gears into near–Slowdive territory, shimmering with dream-pop guitars that lull you into a false sense of comfort. Then, the band smashes that calm: around the one-minute mark, Clarke unleashes a spine-tingling shriek: “and what’s a coma?” It’s an existential question: How much of our daily life is truly awake, and how much is autopilot? The track drifts between hypnotic, reverb-soaked verses and raw black-metal breaks, making it one of the most evocative pieces on the record. 

Similarly, “Amethyst” starts with a lush, melancholic soundscape: “Lunar studded starscape / Doldrums in the calm / Drama of dark choirs / God’s teeth shatter / His black smile.” There’s a cosmic desolation in those lines that resonates throughout the track. Deafheaven slides effortlessly from gentle shoegaze passages into blistering heaviness, keeping the bleak atmosphere intact. It’s as if you can hear a dark deity laughing in the background, mocking humanity’s fragile hope. 

“Revelator” brings us back into full-speed thrash metal territory. Ag Here, knowledge isn’t solely power — it’s a burden that burns. The band refuses to offer redemption; instead, they provide relentless insight, turning the track into a biblical confrontation between illusions and reality. 

“Winona” emerges as the album’s magnum opus, the perfect summation of Deafheaven’s blackgaze ethos. It’s a seamless union of airy, dream-pop intervals and epic progressive metal crescendos that calls to mind the band’s “Sunbather” heyday, yet it’s even more emotionally raw. In vivid imagery — from Saturn devouring his offspring to the all-consuming shadow of authorities — Clarke’s vocals slip between fury and lamentation. Drums surge, guitars crash like tidal waves, and the song takes on a ritualistic weight that’s both cathartic and harrowing. “Winona” offers no easy resolution; it’s a deep dive into trauma, guilt and survival that leaves you breathless. 

Finally, “The Marvelous Orange Tree” closes out the journey with a psychedelic tinge, an almost trance-inducing comedown that merges Deafheaven’s swirling guitars with a hush of resignation. The track breathes in acceptance rather than triumph: “With my endless illness / Walking into blackness.” It’s not a defeat; it’s an honest acknowledgement of life’s unresolvable weight. For an album so steeped in metaphor, it’s only fitting that the final moments forego neat conclusions in favor of a somber, reflective fade. 

“Lonely People With Power” is a towering achievement from a band that constantly tests the boundaries of heavy music. It’s a record that begs for multiple listens, because Deafheaven’s swirling storm of guitars, pulverizing drums and existential poetry is too colossal to digest in one go. On the first spin, you might be overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of noise — but keep coming back, and you’ll unlock a richly textured world of sorrow, hope and fractured beauty. 

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