Denver crust metal band Victim on Fire return with The Old Lie, a record overflowing with speed, density, and physical force—fast-cut riffs, thick bass lines, snapping drums—all repeatedly undercut by one of the most baffling vocal mixes you’re likely to hear in this corner of heavy music. Again and again, the band demonstrate real compositional muscle, only to bury their own frontman so deep in the mix that it feels less like a flaw and more like sabotage.

From the opening moments of the title track, the album’s central tension is obvious. The guitars tear forward with crisp, metalcore-leaning precision, the rhythm section locks in tightly, and the bass buzzes with satisfying weight. Then the vocals arrive—except they barely do. They’re so swallowed by the instrumentation that it’s easy to assume something’s gone wrong on your end. That problem doesn’t ease up when the band introduces melodic passages or church-like riff textures; instead of adding contrast, the vocal placement drains impact from what should be some of the record’s most dynamic ideas.

That imbalance becomes even more frustrating on “Apocalyptic Inclination,” where Victim on Fire flirt with near–black metal intensity. The opening riff is among the fastest and most compelling on the album, drums snapping forward with urgency and bass thudding beneath it all. The atmosphere genuinely feels apocalyptic—right up until the vocals surface and the mix collapses inward. Ironically, the track’s quieter middle section works far better, precisely because the vocals fade out and the musicianship can breathe.

As the album progresses, the band lean further into metallic hardcore territory. “Wayward Light” surges with speed, heavy low-end, and active cymbal work, eventually settling into a surprisingly groovy back half that hints at real staying power. “Nightmares of Ceasefire” follows a familiar pattern—moody, echoing intro, then a dense wall of riffs and drums—but once again, the vocals are smothered beneath the weight of everything else. By this point, the pattern is unmistakable: strong instrumental ideas repeatedly kneecapped by a mix that refuses to let the vocals exist as part of the music.

That recurring flaw almost starts to feel absurd on “Soldiers Dream,” where the vocals are so faint they might as well be conceptual. And yet, this track delivers one of the album’s most affecting moments—a mournful acoustic-and-violin ending capped with a gentle guitar solo. It’s a glimpse of a more emotionally nuanced version of Victim on Fire, and proof they can craft atmosphere just as effectively as brute force.

Elsewhere, inconsistency creeps in. “Discordance” lives up to its name with tight riffing, heavy bass, and frantic double kicks that sometimes slip into sloppiness, while the vocals sound like they were recorded in an entirely different space and pasted faintly underneath. “Barren Path” exposes how worn the band’s formula is becoming, starting sparse before lunging into familiar metallic hardcore patterns. Brief moments where the vocals momentarily rise to the surface hint that there’s a capable performance buried somewhere beneath the mud.

Tracks like “Front Towards Enemy” and “Disharmonist” show flashes of what The Old Lie could have been. Blast beats, energetic riffing, thick bass, and thoughtful layering all point toward a band with genuine vision. “Disharmonist” in particular opens with one of the album’s strongest intros—a slow, reverb-heavy build that swells into massive riffs and playful drum work, capped by ominous pacing and a groovy breakdown that finally lands. Unfortunately, the momentum is once again derailed by suffocated vocals and an oddly timed return to speed that undercuts the mood they’d just established.

The album closes with a bold but ill-advised cover of Iron Maiden’s “Aces High,” and it only magnifies the record’s issues. The riffs feel clunky, the drums stiff, and the overall presentation crowded and unfocused. Brief slower moments show hints of control, but the band sound overwhelmed by the song’s demands—and, predictably, the vocals remain buried, leaving the performance feeling incomplete.

The Old Lie is packed with energy, speed, and legitimately strong instrumental ideas. Victim on Fire clearly know how to write punishing riffs, lock into tight rhythms, and occasionally tap into something genuinely emotional. But the vocal mix is such a persistent problem that it drags nearly every track down, making even the album’s best moments feel unfinished. What could have been a standout crust-tinged metalcore release instead becomes a frustrating listen—one defined by constantly imagining how good it might have been if the vocals weren’t trapped beneath the rubble. Fix that single issue, and Victim on Fire could finally deliver on the potential that flickers throughout The Old Lie.