It’s been about ten long spins around the sun since my buddy Brad leaned in and said, real serious-like, “Man, there’s this band — you need that 7” "The Gods Below Vol. 1." Trust me.” So I dropped the needle… and boom. Hooked from the first crackle. One 7” turned into another, then two killer full-length slabs of wax. And then? Five years of radio silence. Total cosmic blackout.
And now they’re back.
With Tahlia, Devil Electric don’t just plug the amps back in — they crank them until the tubes glow and the walls start sweating. This isn’t some polite return. This thing howls, bleeds, and blooms in thick waves of fuzz. It’s heavy, sure — but it feeds you while it crushes you. Real “that which nourishes me destroys me” kind of energy.
The title track rolls in on a riff that feels like it crawled straight out of a dusty ’70s basement jam. Big, warm, slightly dangerous. It’s vintage doom tangled up with modern heavy rock, slow-burning verses opening into massive, chant-it-with-your-eyes-closed choruses. And Pierina O’Brien? Absolute force of nature. One minute she’s got this smoky, earthy growl, the next she’s soaring way above the amps like she owns the storm. It feels epic, but never bloated. No cosplay retro vibes here — this is alive.
Lyrically, the album circles around cracks in the pavement — strained love, hard lessons, survival mode. It’s a slow exhale after holding your breath for way too long. But it’s not all doom and gloom. “Jill and Jack Shit” struts in with attitude, gritty and streetwise, like it’s got one boot on the bar and one on the monitor. “Weirdos” kicks things up a notch, sharper and punchier, while “When We Talk About Nothing” pulls everything back into this tight, almost claustrophobic space where every note feels close enough to touch.
Then there’s “Acid Bath,” a trippy instrumental collab with Lex Waterreus that just keeps building — layer on layer of psychedelic haze until you’re floating somewhere between menace and bliss. And closer “This Hereafter”? Nine minutes of pure doom release. Slow tension, huge payoff. When Pierina’s voice cracks near the end, it hits hard — not dramatic, just real. Fragile in the best way.
Tahlia feels like a midnight thunderstorm you didn’t see coming. Dark clouds, electric air, flashes of light cutting through the smoke. Every track pulses and breathes. Devil Electric aren’t easing back into the scene — they’re diving in headfirst, amps blazing. Bigger. Heavier. And totally locked in.
-Helge Neumann
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