Rosetta West bring the dirt, the danger, and the divine to new album 'God of the Dead'

Rosetta West follow up their widely-praised live LP 'Gravity Sessions' with 'God of the Dead', a feral, flickering thing emerging from the ashes. With their latest full-length, the band double down on their refusal to play by the modern rock rulebook, sidestepping gloss and convention for something jagged, unshakable, and soaked in a strange, holy grime.

From the opening lurch of 'Boneyard Blues', you’re pulled into a world where blues is the true celestial being. Songs unravel with the unpredictable logic of a dream, as 'Tao Teh King' crawls forward like a sermon given under a blood moon, while 'Susanna Jones' unfolds in two dusky movements, as much short story as song. Elsewhere, 'Inferno' and 'Dead of Night' churn with Sabbath’s weight but spin it into a fevered haze, while 'Summertime' and 'My Life' reveal a weathered vulnerability under the grit.

Frontman Joseph Demagore is the unblinking narrator of this shadowy terrain, his delivery frays and splinters in all the right places, carrying the weight of stories you’re not sure you want to know. His lines hang in the air like warnings or confessions, lived-in and slightly dangerous. Around him, the band shifts form like smoke. Weaver and Scratch swap drum duties without losing momentum, Orpheus Jones keeps the basslines curling like low fog, and guitars howl, shiver, and snarl without ever sounding rehearsed.

The beauty of 'God of the Dead' is in its world-building. Every track feels tethered to that same psychic landscape, where genres melt and mood reigns supreme. In a streaming culture obsessed with polish and instant gratification, Rosetta West offer something that demands time and attention, something too alive to sit quietly in the background.