Rise Records, 2025
Last year, I was out shooting the Dying Fetus tour, and Spite were one of the openers. I’ll be straight I had no idea who the hell they were. I was there to photograph AngelMaker again, and I was hyped for that. While waiting in the pit before the show, another photographer asked if I’d ever seen Spite before. I told her nope, not once. She grinned and said, “No one else here will blow your mind like these sadists. You’re in for a fucking treat.”
She wasn’t lying. From the second they hit the stage, I kept thinking what the fuck in every positive way a metal photographer can mean that. Every song hit harder than the last, every scream felt like a gut punch through the lens, and the pit behind me looked like it was tearing itself apart. I’ve shot a lot of bands over the past couple of years, but only a few left me walking away feeling like I’d just witnessed something dangerous. Spite is one of those bands. They’re not for everyone and that’s exactly why they work. They don’t care if you like it. Hell, they don’t even care if you hate it. That defiance has turned into something of a badge of honor for them, a culture all its own: The Spite Cult.
Fast-forward to now, Halloween 2025, and the band’s fifth full-length, New World Killer, drops like a steel-toed boot to the throat. Produced by Will Putney (the man behind some of the hardest-hitting modern heavy albums Knocked Loose, Better Lovers, Fit for an Autopsy), this record sounds meaner, sharper, and more refined than anything Spite’s done before. It’s the band doubling down on their purpose to make you uncomfortable, to make you furious, to make you feel something ugly and real and doing it with precision.
““The Disaster”” kicks off the record with no warning and no mercy. It opens with “Fear”. Undiscovered, unexplored. In the deep recesses of one’s own mind.” a slow burn of tension that sets the mood before everything detonates. From there, it explodes into full-blown chaos. When Darius spits “Make an example out of you,” it’s not just a lyric it’s a statement of intent for the entire album. The mid-song breakdown is devastating, the kind that doesn’t just move the floor but splits it in half. Darius sounds absolutely feral; like he’s exorcising his own demons on-mic, and Will Putney’s mix gives every snare hit and every chug a physical presence. This is Spite at full strength, and it sets the tone perfectly: unapologetic, unrelenting, and absolutely intentional.
Then comes “Gavel,” which could’ve easily been the opener itself. There’s a steady build of anger in this one, a kind of ritualistic punishment that grows with every verse. The blast beats land perfectly, not overused, but strategically placed to hit maximum impact. You can feel the hate rising through the song’s structure. “Gavel” is slower in parts, heavier in others, but what stands out most is how Spite balances precision and power. Darius doesn’t just scream; he commands. The whole thing feels like a death sentence carried out in real time, and the crowd’s probably the executioner.
“Lights Out” was the first single I heard before getting the review copy, and it made me realize how far Spite has evolved. Everything fans love about them is here; the riffs, the tone, the breakdowns, the unapologetic venom; but multiplied. That line, “The answer is violence,” says everything you need to know about this song. It’s a mission statement and a middle finger rolled into one. The pacing, the hooks, even the structure; it’s one of the tightest songs they’ve ever written. Darius delivers every line like he’s dragging his nails across your skull, and the band behind him never loses tempo. This is easily one of my favorite tracks on the record, a perfect balance of groove, precision, and hostility.
“Shallow” slows the pace but hits even harder emotionally. “There is a bruise that stays.” That lyric defines the song and what it feels like to leave a Spite show. The breakdown here can’t be understated, it’s massive. It feels like they built the song just to detonate the pit. Every pause, every hit is calculated to make you move. There’s a kind of psychological decay running through it the sound of collapse and contempt all bleeding together. “Shallow” doesn’t just bruise; it scars. It’s ugly in the best way possible.
Then we hit “Shedding Skin,” which takes that violence inward. The guitar work here says serial killer all over it: clean, methodical, and unsettlingly calm. The song feels like someone making peace with becoming the monster, and Darius’ delivery matches that transformation line for line. “Made a deal with the serpent on the descent” isn’t just imagery it’s self-awareness. This track is less about speed and more about intent. Every riff feels like a deliberate cut. “Shedding Skin” is where Spite shows their control violence as an art form, precision as power.
“Pledge” sits dead center in the album, and it fits right where it should. The machine-gun-style breakdown is tight, and it punches through the mix perfectly. It’s a solid track maybe not one that steals the spotlight, but one that keeps the record’s momentum alive. There’s nothing wrong with it; it just feels more like a bridge than a statement. In an album built around extremes, “Pledge” is the short breath before diving back into the chaos.
And then comes “Hand of the Reaper.” I don’t know who punched these fuckers in the face in the studio before recording this one, but this this is Spite. This is what hooked me on them in the first place. That verse,
“On the edge of the deep end
At the pinnacle of suffering
Wandering eyes and a blackened vein
The darkness is approaching,”
is one of the strongest lyrical moments of the whole record. It’s visual, it’s dark, and it hits like a confession. The groove here is monstrous, the drumming feels like controlled chaos, and Darius’ performance sounds like he’s bleeding through the microphone. When the breakdown hits, everything caves in. It’s not just my favorite song on the album, it’s easily top three, maybe even top one depending on the day.
“Servant of Chaos” is pure, undiluted deathcore. Nothing fancy, no surprises just brutality straight through. “Our destiny is doom.” That line sums it up perfectly. It’s relentless and grim, the kind of track that reinforces the album’s backbone without trying to stand out. Not every song has to reinvent the wheel some are there to make sure it keeps rolling, and this one does that job with authority.
Then there’s “Looking Glass,” featuring Boundaries, and holy hell, this track is nasty. It’s going to be a fan favorite, no question. The collaboration works seamlessly with Boundaries adding grit without stepping on Spite’s sound. But truthfully, even without the feature, this song would’ve been a banger. And then those lines hit:
“Drag the knife across your neck
Spill it all
Pay for the misery
Misery.”
Who the fuck sits around and writes this?
We all know who does but fuck. It’s unhinged, it’s violent, and it’s perfect. That’s the thing about Spite their brutality doesn’t feel contrived. It feels lived. “Looking Glass” feels like a breakdown of trust and sanity, set to the most aggressive backdrop possible. It’s horrifying and hypnotic all at once.
And then comes the closer “New World Killer.” This song is a monster, the kind of finale that feels like an explosion in slow motion. It could’ve easily opened the record, but ending with it makes more sense it’s the sound of the apocalypse after the dust settles. The vocals change in the intro; that distant, distorted tone creates this eerie tension that builds until Darius finally erupts with “NEW WORLD KILLER!” and everything collapses under its own weight. It’s pure Spite. No restraint, no redemption, just annihilation. The final verse,
“Breed a new hate while I sit and pray
Ignoring what the voices say
Demise enables me to take solace in what I’ve become,”
feels like the thesis statement of the whole record acceptance through destruction. This is who they are, and they’re not pretending otherwise.
New World Killer isn’t perfect. There are a couple of spots that feel like filler, where the energy dips for just a moment before kicking back up. I was hoping this might end up being the deathcore album of the year, but those few mid-album lulls kept it just shy of that crown. That said, I doubt Spite gives a damn about my opinion and honestly, that’s part of why I love them. They do what they want, how they want, and New World Killer proves they can still raise hell better than most of the scene combined.
This record is everything Spite stands for aggression without apology, chaos without compromise, and a complete rejection of the idea that heavy music needs to please anyone. It’s violent, it’s ugly, it’s cathartic, and it’s honest.
Rating: 4 Cult Members out of 5
Stay safe, stay metal, and always be kind.
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