Strung Out in Hell envelops you in a thick, smoky atmosphere from the very first note, immediately establishing why Margarita Witch Cult have earned a reputation as masters of doom-laden soundscapes. The band doesn’t gently guide you in—they plunge you straight into their shadowy world, with bass leading the way. Across the album, the low end isn’t just a rhythm section—it’s the spine, the narrator, and the character at the heart of every track.

From the buzzing menace of “Conqueror Worm” to the warm, blues-infused sway of “The Fool,” and the spaced-out, pulsing drive of “Mars Rover,” the bass dominates, creating a hypnotic gravity that holds the songs together. The production leans deliberately muffled, as if every note is reverberating through fog or smoke, lending the record a mysterious, almost ritualistic feel. On tracks like “Crawl Home to Your Coffin,” that hazy depth gives the riffs a weight and texture that practically smoke on impact, conjuring the sense of music oozing from a ritual fire pit. Even on faster, more upbeat numbers such as “Witches Candle,” the same fuzz imbues the rhythm riffs and drums with a gritty charm, while the lead guitars provide color—twangy accents, melodic hooks, and slick solos that lift the songs without disturbing the hypnotic groove.

Vocally, the album takes an unconventional approach. The main screams are often buried beneath the haze, blending into the instrumentation as another layer of distortion rather than dominating the mix. Backing vocals, by contrast, cut through with spectral clarity, creating ghost-choir textures on tracks like “Scream Bloody Murder” and “Crawl Home to Your Coffin” that perfectly complement the band’s occult, smoky aesthetic. The few moments where the band breaks from this formula are particularly striking. “Dig Your Way Out” surprises with sudden bursts of raw, upfront screams, while their cover of “White Wedding” feels like a classic track submerged in a vat of doom tar. Slowed tempos, reverb-soaked vocals, and heavy distortion transform the song into unmistakably Margarita Witch Cult territory, a reinterpretation that feels both faithful and wholly original.

The band’s mastery lies in their subtle manipulations of atmosphere and texture. “Conqueror Worm” hums with an eerie, almost malevolent energy, aided by faint synth layers that whisper beneath the surface. “Mars Rover” begins as a cosmic, psychedelic march before snapping into a bouncy, bass-driven groove, a playful moment where doom metal meets space-rock daydreaming. And then there’s “Who Put Bella in the Wych Elm,” a track that opens with a soft, smoky intro before erupting into crushing riffs and blown-out screams—an unsettling, swamp-thick mystery that lingers long after it ends.

The latter half of the album sees the band stretch their creative muscles further. “The Fool” introduces bluesy warmth and subtle horns, hinting at “doom jazz” without ever breaking the cohesion of the record. The experimentation enriches the fog rather than dispersing it, expanding the sound palette and making the ritualistic atmosphere feel larger, stranger, and more immersive.

Strung Out in Hell thrives on atmosphere, groove, and the commanding presence of its low end. Margarita Witch Cult keeps riffs simple and tone dense, but the careful layering of textures—reverb, haze, blues influences, psychedelic touches, backing vocals, and occasional horns—prevents the album from ever feeling monotonous. The vocals may sometimes recede into the mist, and riff patterns occasionally repeat, yet the commanding bass, hypnotic grooves, and unwaveringly thick atmosphere more than compensate.

This is smoky, sludgy, and occasionally experimental doom that knows exactly what it wants to be—and delivers it with weight, confidence, and a whole lot of haze. Strung Out in Hell is a ritual in sound, a descent into shadowy grooves, and a masterclass in using atmosphere as both a weapon and a storyteller.