With Para Bellum, Testament make it painfully clear that longevity means nothing when the riffs are this lethal and the intent this aggressive. From the opening surge, the album sounds enormous—a crushing convergence of drums, bass, and guitars that leans closer to extreme metal than classic thrash, without ever shedding the band’s core identity. It’s a record built on weight, menace, and control, sounding vicious and calculated in equal measure.

The early moments hit with overwhelming force, recalling the blunt trauma of For the Love of Pain. Massive drum rolls, deep bass strikes, screaming riffs, and relentless double-kick patterns establish a level of intensity that refuses to let up. The production is huge, especially on the drums and vocals, which come across as commanding and poisonous. Chuck Billy is a dominant presence throughout, shifting effortlessly between guttural lows, piercing screams, and authoritative shouts. At times, he sounds closer to a death metal frontman than a thrash veteran—particularly on “High Noon,” where his delivery borders on feral.

Despite the album’s extremity, Testament never abandon groove. Tracks like “Infanticide A.I.” and “Witch Hunt” balance speed with swagger, pairing razor-edged thrash riffing with punishing blast beats and thick, buzzing bass lines. The riffs are often deceptively simple, but they land with maximum impact because of the band’s discipline and experience. Nothing feels wasted; every hit serves a purpose. After nearly four decades together, the band’s chemistry is undeniable.

Para Bellum also knows when to pull back and let atmosphere take over. “Shadow People” rides a darker, hypnotic groove, anchored by a prominent bass line and trippy guitar textures, while “Nature of the Beast” taps into a rugged, almost southern-leaning heaviness with soaring leads and tasteful, restrained drumming. “Meant to Be” stands out as the album’s emotional core, unfolding slowly through layered acoustics, mournful electric lines, and subtle orchestral elements. It’s restrained but epic, showing how powerful the band can be without relying solely on speed or brutality. Some of these longer cuts flirt with excess, but the sheer scale of the sound keeps them engaging.

For fans craving something more traditional, “Room 117” delivers a deliberate nod to old-school thrash. Its mid-tempo pacing, narrative-driven vocals, and straightforward aggression feel intentional rather than nostalgic, proving the band can still tap into their roots without sounding stuck there. Not every experiment lands cleanly, though. “Havana Syndrome” is the album’s most uneven moment, with riffs and drums occasionally clashing in a way that feels more disorienting than dynamic, even if later guitar passages hint at what the track could have been.

The album closes on a high note with the title track, “Para Bellum,” which distills everything Testament do best here: massive, authoritative drums, dense and grooving riffs, venomous vocal delivery, and a chorus that feels monumental as the title is hurled into the void. It’s a powerful send-off to an album that never once sounds tentative.

Ultimately, Para Bellum isn’t impressive because Testament have been around for nearly forty years—it’s impressive because it sounds urgent, hostile, and fully alive. The band blur the line between thrash and death metal with confidence, delivering a record that’s punishing, epic, and unapologetically heavy. This is battle-ready metal, and Testament remain more than capable of leading the charge.