Rotgut 8 Oz Cantrip Review
Rotgut
8 Oz Cantrip
Self-Released
2026
2025 introduced me to the Pac-West menace known as Rotgut via their debut EP “24 Oz Cantrip”, and I’m not exaggerating when I say it rewired my brain. Instantly obsessed. The band hit every pressure point I didn’t even know I still had - Thrash, Horror, Blackened filth, all stirred together like some forbidden back-alley potion. It felt like being blasted back into my VHS-rotted youth: late nights, Horror marathons, flickering screens, bad decisions, worse soundtracks. This wasn’t nostalgia, this was home.
The only problem? Physical media. The band only had it on cassette, and unless someone wants to donate a functioning tape deck from 1988, that wasn’t happening. So, I did what any sane person would do: burned a CDR like it was 2001 and parked it in my car permanently. It’s lived there ever since. I’ve spun that thing more times than I can count, and every time the same thought creeps in: “Fuck it, let’s go again.” Full-blown ritual listening. No skips. No regrets. Total obsession.
Rotgut themselves are still wrapped in mystery. Masked up, nameless, looking like they crawled straight out of the wreckage with the Acolytes from Mad Max. Are they survivors? Are they psychos? Are they even human? Who knows, but if I saw them rolling down the highway, I’m changing lanes and minding my business.
Fast forward, sneak attack. The band has quietly dropped another EP and somehow, I didn’t know beforehand, which feels like a personal failure. But whatever, because now there’s fresh audio filth to roll around in, and that’s all that matters.
Enter “8 Oz Cantrip.” I have no earthly idea what the deal is with the “Cantrip” theme, and honestly, I don’t care. I’m sober, my ears work, and my tolerance for filth is extremely high, that’s all the prerequisite listening gear you need.
This time it’s only four tracks, which is admittedly a kick in the teeth, but that’s the fanboy talking. I want a full hour of this stuff injected directly into my skull. Thankfully, the repeat button exists for a reason. According to the bio, these are older tracks from the band’s early days, now dragged out of the shadows and unleashed properly. And holy hell, you can feel it.
There’s a noticeable shift here. The debut leaned heavier into a Black ’n’ Roll swagger; “8 Oz Cantrip” is meaner, nastier, and way more unhinged. The blackened edge is still there, but now it’s colliding head-on with Death Metal aggression, smearing genre lines like blood on concrete. What really takes center stage though is the craftsmanship. The songwriting. The intent. This band does not miss. Ever.
Riffs that snap necks. Leads that cut like razors. Vocals that sound like they’re summoning something ancient and severely pissed off. And a rhythm section that doesn’t budge - an immovable, unstoppable force. Everything hits with purpose. No filler. No wasted motion. Just controlled violence.
“8 Oz Cantrip” is a vicious follow-up from a band that knows exactly who and what they are – “meat for the beast”. And its borderline criminal that they aren’t already on a bigger label, getting shoved in front of massive crowds. That’ll change. All it takes is one listen, one show, one exec with a spine. Put Rotgut on a stage at Wacken or Hellfest and watch the crowd lose their goddamn minds. This is the kind of band that gets carved into skin.
If that doesn’t happen soon, I’ll settle for vinyl pressings, a growing cult following, and fewer nights blasting this shit alone in the dark like a maniac. This EP should easily find its way into my top ten list of 2026 just as the band’s previous release. Hit their bandcamp page up right fucking now, don’t wait. This is Black Sex Horror Magic in its most vile form, the kind that crawls out of the sewer and demands a sacrifice.
Standouts: “Slash and Burn” and “Gods and Masters”