Deadlands Seven EP Review
Deadlands
Seven
Spinefarm
2025
Reviewed by someone who’s seen too many pit injuries to count and still hears the faint echo of Overkill riffs in their sleep.
It’s been a while since I’ve been this deep outta my element. Let me be real with you, I’m not exactly up to speed on what the “next gen” of Metalheads are screaming about these days. I’m not “with it,” whatever “it” even is anymore. My boots are planted in the battlefield of old-school riff worship, where solos reigned, bands bled onstage, and you were either real or you were roadkill.
But every now and then, something crosses my desk and makes me slam the brakes, spill my water, and mutter “...okay, what the actual fuck is this?” That something is Deadlands, a Metalcore act from Long Island that just dropped an atomic elbow from the top rope with their upcoming EP “Seven”. And yeah, this ain’t my usual poison, but I drank it deep, and it burned good going down.
By today’s genre taxonomy, Deadlands are Metalcore with a cinematic sense of drama and melody. Imagine if Heaven and Hell threw down in a bar fight and brought a film crew. Frontwoman Kasey Karlsen is the conductor of this chaos, switching gears from banshee-wails to haunting clean vocals so fast it’ll give your neck whiplash. It’s demons vs. angels in a vocal tug of war, and somehow, she wins both sides.
Backing her up is CJ Arey, the mad scientist behind the curtain, writing, riffing, and shaping the sonic skeleton of this whole beast. Now, I’ll admit by old bastard standards like mine, there’s a noticeable absence of solos, leads, and tasty little fretboard fireworks. It's all low-end crunch, chugs, and palm-muted punches to the throat. But here’s the kicker: it works. You don’t always need a show-off solo when the riffs stomp like war machines and the vocals sound like they’re exorcising the last century’s worth of pain.
Kasey Karlsen might just be the next big female voice in Modern Metal, if she stays sharp. Talent is only part of it. This industry eats the weak and naïve like wolves on a fresh kill. She’ll need to keep her body strong, her mind sharper, and her business even sharper than that. But if she plays her cards, right? She could end up the next icon on a million-bedroom walls, and not just because of how she looks, but because of what she brings.
“Seven” is thematically anchored around the Seven Deadly Sins, but don’t expect a tracklist that spells it all out like a coloring book. Each track has its own identity, its own venom. One spin through, and if you’ve got a soul (or what's left of it), you’ll know which sin is which. It’s a clever move, letting the listener do a little digging rather than being spoon-fed. I respect that.
Gripes? Sure. I’ve got one. I miss guitar leads. Sue me. Sometimes the music plays it just a little too safe, feels like it's wearing gloves when it should be throwing fists. Metal needs danger. It needs that devil-may-care, set-the-church-on-fire energy. But maybe that’s just the old head in me crying into my vintage Judas Priest vinyl.
Standouts, Hell yes:
- “Limbo” – brooding, blistering, borderline unholy.
- “Die In Paradise” – melody with menace, like being stabbed with a rose.
- “Wither” – pure emotion delivered with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
Bottom line: “Seven” isn’t perfect, but it is powerful. If this is what the new blood’s bringing to the table, I might just have to start showing up to the feast again. Just don’t expect me to stop yelling about guitar solos. Ever.