Former Celtic Frost members, Erol Uenala (guitar) and Franco Sesa (drums), will always be lauded for their role in the greatest comeback album in the history of metal (see 2006’s Monotheist LP). It’s enough to live on for the rest of their careers, yet it’s something they cannot escape unless they reinvent themselves in another genre. Thankfully, they chose not to embrace something radically opposed to metal for their new Inlitnment project. If anything, it continues the Celtic Frost legacy that Tom G. Warrior started with Triptykon and could even enter the latter’s discography as a worthy piece of art. There’s a compliment in this somewhere, and let’s be clear: Spiritual Warfare is a monstrous record that’ll leave you feeling as ready to take on the world as a boxer in his prime.
The Eastern mysticism of Uenala and Sesa’s previous work in Oath of Cranes rears its head in the woodwind samples of ‘Yoor just Noiz not yet Myoozik’, but they soon blemish it with feedback and lay down their doom template in ‘SpireChewel Turmoil’. Here the cymbal crashes follow the drawling chords in morbid formation and set the scene for seven minutes of slow-grinding metal in ‘SpireChewel Worfar’. But this is not the doom metal of doleful resignation to life’s crushing burdens, nor is it wrapped in the occult. Inlitnment see the slow tempo of the genre as a powerful sound that can stop humans in their tracks and make them see the world around them through the paradox of meditation. The most interesting aspect is the use of background atmospherics. These add glow to the spiritual hum of the vocals and give Oli Keller a grandiloquence at the microphone when he switches to a belting roar. You can picture Sesa’s drumsticks touching the backs of his shoulders as he opens his arms to huge snare-hitting motions. Your chest is not safe from the low-end distortion of bass and guitar here.
‘SpireChewel Slav’ is where things become unmistakeable in their Celtic Frost creed. Think of ‘Ground’ from 2006’s Monotheist and compare it to the muscular presence of the down-stroking chords and pocket grooves in this song. Is it good enough to be a sequel? Yes, it is. The savage simplicity is what makes it so satisfying. Pick up a guitar and you could work out the one finger power-chords in less than a minute. Even the noisy attempt at a solo recalls the auto-didact hand of Tom G. Warrior (who’ll admit he’s one of the weakest soloists in the history of metal). But this is not about flamboyance or style; this is about soundtracking alienation and finding a way out of its grip and into enlightenment. Morbid tales these are not. Tales of disenchantment would be a better description.
One listen to Spiritual Warfare is enough to confirm it’s not just crushing power chords and masculine roars that define this band. The intro to ‘SpireChewel Anlit’ could be from Tiamat’s Wildhoney in its use of a darker shade of pastel colours. Listen to the mystical delay effect of the clean arpeggios and sedate drumbeats. Can you feel the baritone whisper of Oli Keller’s voice slip underneath your sleeves and down your spine? Of course, the triumph comes when the band switch to full-scale distortion at the finale like men who believe that gravity will not force them downwards from the clifftop if they jump. ‘SpireChewel Bipas’ is just as invigorating. Audio dashboards must be at a flashing red to accommodate the overload of amp gain and guitar fuzz. Keller is a better singer than you think. His voice is not far from the charismatic bite of Testament’s Chuck Billy here. It wouldn’t be surprising if they kept most of the ghost track from the first studio cut. The bleed of the electric strings makes the triplet riffing detonate in spectacular style, like a deliberate opposite to how it would sound in the hands of Meshuggah or Fear Factory.
We all fear how AI will sanitise music, but Inlitnment show how humans can still lead the way in creating a glorious noise with expert EQ balance. Yes, there are dud finger placements, squeaking chord slides, and bass notes that ring for a split second longer that they should, and that’s what it makes it so enlivening. People think of a despondent sluggishness or the slow rolling head of the stoner when they think of doom. Not here. Every song pulsates with an intensity reserved for the post-metal of Neurosis, but the noise levels are as dangerous as Watain. We can only hope they have plans to bring it to a live audience. Can you imagine how difficult it’ll be to hold a beer in your hand with this music forcing your neck and chin into a groove that you cannot control? The surprise outro of glistening folk guitars will enshroud you in their nocturnal textures like a forest mist.
“Spirits calling me,” is the self-realisation emanating from Keller’s microphone in the closing title-track, and it’ll intoxicate you if you close your eyes, open your arms to the sky, and let your biceps throb. The way they reset the dynamics to a quieter inducement of awe at the four-minute mark is just as impressive for its background choral choirs, which try to break through but always remain trapped in a deliberate limbo. You might need to think again if you marked the 2026 Neurosis comeback effort for your album of the year. This is spiritual intensity in all its glory.
Verdict
Release Date: 19/06/2026
Record Label: Čachtice Records / Noisy Plastics Records
Standout tracks: SpireChewel Slav; SpireChewel Anlit; SpireChewel Bipas
Suggested Further Listening: Celtic Frost – Monotheist (2006), Godflesh – Purge (2023), Oath of Cranes – The Unsung Mantras (2023)