“To the band’s credit, they know how to create a thick atmosphere without cluttering the songs with unnecessary technicality.”
From the first track, “Collapsing Waltz”, Swiss trio Skullpriest lean heavily into the classic stoner doom formula. As expected, massive guitar tones dominate everything, rolling forward at a glacial pace while the drums lock into slow, almost meditative grooves underneath, with an emotional guitar line always spearheading the record. Since the album is entirely instrumental, the focus naturally shifts toward texture and mood, and to the band’s credit, they know how to create a thick atmosphere without cluttering the songs with unnecessary technicality. The riffs are patient and repetitive in the best possible way, often stretching out long enough to pull listeners into a trance before subtly mutating into something heavier or more psychedelic. However, there is a natural mellowness to Collapsing Walls that leaves us wanting more.
Collapsing Walls has the warm, analogue-sounding fuzz that stoner doom lives and dies on, mostly due to near-perfect mixing and mastering. Nothing here sounds overly polished, but it never turns excessively muddy or murky either. The guitars stay front and centre throughout the record, layered with enough distortion to feel immersive without completely swallowing the rhythm section. There is also a noticeable psychedelic influence woven through several tracks, especially during the slower transitions and drifting guitar leads that occasionally break up the crushing low-end crawl, with “15 Bricks” and “Crumbling Down” being the best examples at hand. But this is not what turns the album into a great listening experience.
Where the album shines most is in its pacing. Skullpriest know very well that instrumental doom can easily become monotonous and sullen if every track follows the same dynamic. While Collapsing Walls definitely settles into familiar grooves, the band do a very good job of varying tempos and moods, while also adding enough progressive parts, again in “15 Bricks”, to keep the record moving and interesting. Some songs lean into cosmic, almost space-rock territory, while others hit with a heavier, more oppressive feel closer to traditional doom metal. Those shifts help give the album some identity, even if individual tracks do not always stand out on their own. That is ultimately where the record falls a little short, despite the strong atmosphere and consistent musicianship.
Collapsing Walls rarely delivers a truly memorable moment. A lot of the riffs blur together after repeated listens, and the album does not really contain that one towering centrepiece track that great stoner doom albums usually need. To be totally honest, we would love to name “15 Bricks” as that track, but it is not quite enough for that. Fans of the genre will probably appreciate the commitment to mood and tone, but listeners hoping for something more adventurous, like Gong, may find themselves checking out mentally halfway through. Collapsing Walls feels like the kind of album designed for late nights, low lights and absolutely no sense of urgency. It is enjoyable and well made, but little else. Still, there is something undeniably satisfying about it. Skullpriest are not trying to reinvent stoner doom. They lock into a vibe and stay there for nearly an hour.
