With Lonely People with Power, Deafheaven continues their evolution into one of the most emotionally complex and sonically fearless bands working today. Known for pioneering the blackgaze sound—fusing black metal’s harshness with the beauty of shoegaze—they push that boundary even further here, embracing ambient minimalism, post-rock swells, indie melancholy, and moments of outright chaos.

The album opens with an eerie stillness, a static haze that sets a feeling of unease and anticipation. That atmosphere quickly gives way to sprawling compositions where blast beats and tremolo-picked guitars clash and coexist with lush synths, cinematic ambiance, and deeply melodic basslines. While the band’s signature black metal screams remain intact, they’re often buried just enough in the mix to blend into the wall of sound—more texture than lead, but still filled with urgency and anguish.

What stands out most on this record is the band's emotional breadth. There’s a deep sadness running through these songs, not just in the tortured vocals, but in the instrumentation itself. Songs unfold slowly and with purpose. Deafheaven plays with dynamics in a way that feels deeply human—moving between soaring and subdued, frantic and fragile. The drums deserve special recognition throughout, offering both technical ferocity and a wide palette of textures, especially when paired with thick, expressive basslines that are more present than on past releases.

Rather than relying purely on heaviness, the band leans into melody, layering clean guitar tones, subtle acoustic textures, and even sparse choral vocals to build something rich and immersive. They never shy away from ambition—some tracks stretch past seven minutes, but rarely feel bloated. There’s an intentional pacing here, a sense that each crescendo, each soft passage, is earned.

At its most experimental, the album touches on ambient and trance-like territory, blurring lines between black metal and post-electronic abstraction. Spoken-word interludes add to the cinematic quality of the record, though some may find them a bit indulgent or disconnected. Still, they contribute to the conceptual weight and pacing of the project, making it feel like more than just a collection of songs—it’s a journey.

What’s most impressive is how Deafheaven continues to make heavy music accessible without diluting its intensity. They reframe blast beats and guttural screams as emotional tools rather than just aggressive ones. There’s catharsis here, but it’s not cheap or easy—it’s earned through layering, patience, and contrast. When the album does hit hard, it’s devastating. But when it goes soft, it still hurts—just in a different way.

Lonely People with Power feels like both a collapse and a triumph. It captures that strange emotional limbo of surviving something traumatic and still not knowing what to do with the aftermath. There's beauty, brutality, sorrow, serenity—and Deafheaven navigates it all with unflinching honesty. It's not an easy listen, but it’s a rewarding one.

Deafheaven sounds more alive and more wounded than ever—this is their most vulnerable, cinematic, and emotionally vast work to date.