Words by Belinda Quick
Fearless Records
June 5, 2026
“Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of the earth” – Henry David Thoreau, Excursions
There are many ways to describe Pennsylvanian metalcore messiahs, AUGUST BURNS RED. Pacesetters, stalwarts, pioneers, vicennials, and, with the release of their most vital record to date, Season of Surrender, the rarest of titles for a band of their ilk: denarians.
The tenth chapter in the traditional discography unleashed this Friday, June 5 (excluding the metallically marvellous Christmas album, Sleddin’ Hill, of course), the almighty ABR has reached a level of maturation few in the strictly metalcore bandwidth ever achieve. A testament not only to the years but collective strength, 2026’s LP possesses the power to supersede the adrenaline of Thrillseeker (2005) and draw stricter throughlines to the band’s contributions than even the brightest of Constellations (2009) could trace.
Erupting in signature style, Legions is immediately recognisable as ABR with Jake Luhrs’ snarling growl breaking through the technical tornado of JB Brubaker and Brent Rambler’s twin guitars, further punctuated by the rapid fire of the tandem rhythm section manned by Dustin Davidson (bass) and Matt Grenier (drums).
The five a collective work of fine art, this listener’s experience is ecstatically amplified exactly 17 seconds in as the harmonised scream of THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA’s Mike Hranica is heard. The opener, the first of a trio of collaborations on SoS, amalgamates an unmistakable touch of the featured artist’s band, right down to the manic rising action that climaxes in a deathly protracted breakdown in the fourth minute.
Unrelenting, the recently released lead single accomplishes more in under three minutes than most heavy bands do over the course of an entire album … This song is ABR stripped down to the absolute core of their sound: intricate, crushing, and ferocious. The lyrics reflect the band’s antithetical mission statement – heavy music for happy people – as Luhrs recounts on The Nameless, inciting individual action on a universal scale; “detaching from what you’ve been told, or from the beliefs you are no longer aligned with … break free to live a life you are proud of.”
The giant shapeshifting into a Behemoth, the Messengers’ gospel is a brutally delivered sermon. ABR’s ‘resolve deafening’, they announce their ‘legacy won’t be one of shame and silence, or hate and violence; Death will fear me’ and not the other way round. ‘Panic replaces faith’ and hope will be reclaimed from the Den of Thieves.
A successive one-two punch hits hard, courtesy of a pair of Australian appearances. In mimicry of track one, wailing guitars coalesce with grooving basslines and heartbeating lyrical delivery as ‘the sound hits the speaker’. Synonymous with co-vocalist Jamie Hails’ POLARIS, Sonic Salvation swings into the perfect marriage and Cerebral Malfunction of MAKE THEM SUFFER’s cameo.
The duelling bands begin with lead singers sparring, Luhrs and Sean Harmanis ‘reaching for entire galaxies’ reign down blows; MTS’s keyboardist and backing vocalist, Alex Reade’s ethereal contribution elicits a Tear of the Clouds, bleeding into the rescue breath and, with Whispers Like Splinters, segues the record into the final movements of S.O.S. – figuratively and literally. The latter pair amongst the most quintessential ABR recordings, sequential listens emphasise a segregation between tracks preceding and those that follow Clouds’ intermission.
With the former representing ABR’s commitment to camaraderie amongst the metalcore community as much as their drive to search for New Horizons, more than 20 years into their journey together, the final four commemorate the commitment to perfecting continuity, which has seen the unchanged quintet achieve status ‘as one of the foremost acts in the genre’.
A band who themselves claim they were Forged by Failure (or, at least, found their name through horrific origins – Google it if you haven’t heard Luhrs & Brubaker’s most recent attestation to the narrative) have ‘never stopped pushing the limits of their sound’; Season of Surrender is no exception to the ironclad rule.
