Hollywood Mortician opens like a late-night horror reel flickering to life — all static, distortion, and dread, as if something unhinged is about to crawl through the speakers. Nathan James doesn’t bother with a slow burn; he kicks the door off its hinges with “Crown of Thorns,” a jolt of nu-metal revivalism that stomps, snarls, and flashes its teeth with confidence. The riffs grind, the bass snarls, the vocals rip right down the center — and yet beneath all that aggression, there’s a strange stiffness, like the performance is trying to believe its own fury. It’s loud, it’s slick, it’s powerful — but not always convincing.
That duality defines the entire record. Hollywood Mortician has all the right ingredients — industrial textures, metallic swagger, distorted layers — but too often, it hovers on the edge of greatness without ever fully stepping over. On “Ghost Under the Veil,” the mix finally breathes. The drums hit like blunt trauma, the guitars churn with industrial dissonance, and for a moment, the sound feels dangerous. But then the chorus glides in, soft and uncertain, and all that tension drains away. Every time the record seems to find its footing, it takes a step sideways.
“Lost Angeles” pulses with sleazy mechanical energy straight out of Antichrist Superstar-era Marilyn Manson, dripping with grime and attitude, but it leans too hard on imitation over evolution. Nathan James’ low growls and harsh screams land with real weight — they sound lived-in, authentic — but his clean vocals don’t quite hit the same. They read more like performance than confession, more technique than truth. He’s got the darkness, but not always the conviction to make it bleed.
“The Hanged Man” wades into trap-metal territory, brushing shoulders with Ghostemane but without the venom or volatility, while “Misanthrope” teeters between menace and monotony — flashes of brilliance buried in repetition. The record finds its strongest stride on “Alienation” and “Nails.” Here, everything locks in: James’ rap-like phrasing feels confident and alive, the riffs sync perfectly with the rhythm, and the drums throb with intent. “Nails,” especially, glows with swagger — for a few minutes, James sounds like he’s commanding the chaos instead of drowning in it.
But momentum slips away fast. “Appetite” drags on, lifeless under neon lights — flat and disconnected, like a B-side that wandered in by accident. “Funeral” and “BloodHound” crank up the volume again, with thick riffs and industrial clatter, but the impact is surface-level. They look heavy, sound heavy, but they rarely feel heavy. There’s polish and punch, but little peril.
The closer, “Tickets to Your Downfall,” whispers through distorted breaths and trap beats, aiming for eerie intimacy but landing somewhere closer to unease. There’s ambition here — a clear effort to merge metal, industrial, and electronic production into something personal — but it ends feeling more like a sketch of an artist still finding himself. Somewhere between a Manson disciple, a Ghostemane understudy, and a nu-metal revivalist, Nathan James is circling a sound that’s just shy of genuine revelation.
Hollywood Mortician isn’t a failure — not by a long shot. It’s packed with moments that click: snarling basslines, flashes of groove, thick atmosphere, and a production style that’s sharp enough to cut glass. But what’s missing is the pulse — that unpredictable spark that makes darkness feel dangerous, not decorative. James has the voice, the skill, and the tools; he just hasn’t found the chaos that turns craft into catharsis.
For now, Hollywood Mortician feels like a polished corpse — dressed to kill, perfectly lit, technically intact, but missing the blood and bite that would make it truly come alive.
NOTABLE TRACKS:
Crown of Thorns
nails