We have said it before, but the past twenty years have been remarkably kind to the thrash metal giants of the eighties and nineties. Overkill, Testament, Anthrax, and, in this case, Kreator, have released some of their strongest and most vital records in the last two decades. 2022’s Hate Über Alles was better than any extreme metal band that debuted in 1985 had a right to unleash upon the world, and their new one, Krushers of the World, is just as formidable.
At this point in their career, Kreator have long since found their identity and no longer feel the need to flirt with industrial sounds or compete with younger bands in the brutality Olympics. Instead, they focus on refining what they already do best: pummeling beats, crushing, or rather krushing, riffs, blazing guitar solos, and epic, frantic, melodic songs that make the listener feel like they are caught in the middle of a vicious battle against the forces of darkness and evil. It is exhausting, but it is also fucking awesome. Kreator are not simply coasting on legacy: the record feels strikingly modern, absorbing the various evolutions of extreme metal and folding them seamlessly into the band’s own language. Black metal, groove metal, deathcore, all of it has been assimilated, digested, and spat back out in unmistakably Kreator form.
The first thing that hits the listener is the production. It is clean, with every instrument clearly separated and sharply defined. It might sound slightly too digital for some tastes, but that is a minor complaint. One major advantage of this clarity is that Mille Petrozza’s voice remains front and center. As with most thrash outfits, the vocals are an acquired taste. If his bilious screech was not your cup of ale in 1986, it is unlikely to win you over now, yet no other voice would suit these songs. Like Bobby Ellsworth or Dave Mustaine in the same genre, Petrozza is a true stylist, instantly recognizable and completely unique. Take it or leave it.
The second notable feature is the sheer quality of the songwriting. The album is packed with killer riffs, but it never feels like a random collection of parts stitched together. The songs unfold with momentum and logic, driven by the unrelenting churn of the rhythm section. It is progressive without being indulgent, brutal without being monotonous, melodic without losing its bite. These tracks are built for the stage: it is easy to picture kids in the pit losing their minds to every riff and every colossal chorus.
Many of the album’s strongest moments lean into atmosphere and menace. “Seven Serpents” opens with a melodic, weaving guitar introduction before launching into full-scale devastation. Ominous chants and a staccato, tremolo-picked riff give the song a distinctly black metal edge. “Psychotic Imperator” pushes the band into even more old-school territory, sounding like a lost Extreme Aggression outtake. The ghostly choir that appears before the bridge, followed by a barrage of searing guitar solos, stands among the album’s most striking passages. “Deathscream” continues in this vein, relentless, savage, and unapologetically hostile.
Elsewhere, Kreator embrace speed and pure thrash ferocity. “Barbarian” is the band in its most familiar and most lethal form, a hyper-fast assault with a massive, chant-along chorus. The breakdown, the crawling midsection, and the explosive solo section that follows form a sequence of controlled chaos, ferocious and devastating in equal measure. “Blood of Our Blood” feels like a battering ram, as if a New Wave of British Heavy Metal anthem had been pushed to its most extreme limits of speed and brutality. Imagine Behemoth covering late-era Saxon, and you are not far off.
The album also thrives on its warlike, rallying-cry energy. “Combatants” is built around a slithering main riff and a surgical vocal pattern that slices through the mix. Its epic chorus and dramatic guitar solos give the song the feel of a battlefield anthem. The title track, opts for a heavier, mid-tempo groove, driven by a fist-pumping, singalong chorus that feels tailor-made for festival crowds. “Satanic Anarchy” goes even further into bombastic territory, channeling over-the-top power and speed metal in the spirit of Helloween, only filtered through Kreator’s far more vicious lens.
The album closes on a slightly different emotional note. “Loyal To The Grave” is less about bile and rage than about defiant unity. It is an empowerment anthem, a rallying cry for the brotherhood of metal. The song remains heavy and uncompromising, but the melodies feel brighter, and the lyrics offer a faint glimmer of hope, even if that hope still comes wrapped in death, distortion, and fire.
Kreator have not mellowed with age. If anything, they sound more hateful, more vicious, and more aggressive than ever. Krushers of the World feels like a reaction to a brutalized, collapsing world, a furious howl aimed at everything that festers in the dark. After four decades, Kreator are still not here to comfort anyone. They are here to crush, to conquer, and to remind us that rage, when sharpened and controlled, can still be a formidable weapon.
