Steamhammer
24/10/25
By Ali Williams
Some bands age like fine wine. Others, like THEM, age like a bottle of absinthe left on a windowsill — potent, slightly hallucinogenic, and guaranteed to make you question reality after a few sips. With their new album release Psychedelic Enigma, the legendary outfit prove they’ve still got more tricks up their vintage leather sleeves than most bands half their age.
From the opening track, Echoes Through Brass, the album doesn’t so much invite you in as it kicks the door off its hinges with a fuzz-drenched riff that could have been unearthed from a long-lost ‘70s jam session — if said jam session was held inside a K Hole. It’s hypnotic, heavy, and just the right amount of unhinged.
Sonically, Psychedelic Enigma is a swirling collision between classic blues-rock foundations and kaleidoscopic cosmic exploration. Imagine Hawkwind and Cream sharing a spaceship, but Motörhead’s the pilot. THEM lean fully into their psychedelic tendencies, drenching everything in wah wah pedals, Hammond organs that sound like they’re summoning ancient spirits, and solos that spiral into orbit before crash-landing perfectly back on beat. It’s chaotic in theory, but frighteningly precise in execution.
Lyrically, the album dances between being cryptic and delightfully insane. Songs like Mirror Oracle and The Lantern Knows are dripping with surreal imagery — you’ll find yourself nodding along as if you completely understand what a “fractal messenger from the inner sphere” is. (You don’t. Nobody does. But it sounds phenomenal, screamed over a wall of Marshall amped guitars.)
One of the record’s unexpected strengths is its pacing. Rather than hammering you with nonstop riffs, THEM cleverly weave in sprawling instrumental interludes and smoky, blues-infused breakdowns that let you catch your breath — before dragging you straight back into the bullring at a metalcore concert. Neon Pilgrim, with its jazzy undertones and sinister groove, is particularly addictive. It almost feels like you’re sneaking into a late-night speakeasy bar on Mars.
Production-wise, the album strikes a sweet balance: polished enough to sound massive on modern sound systems, yet gritty enough to retain that analogue warmth fans of the band’s early work will adore. There’s a certain confidence in how unapologetically weird this record is — like a magician revealing their best trick but refusing to explain it.
In a time when many veteran bands play it safe, THEM have sent it well past the bleachers — and hit a psychedelic home run that splinters into a thousand glowing shards on impact. Psychedelic Enigma isn’t background music. It’s more than a trip; it is the psilocybin itself, a statement, and a reminder that heavy music can be both thunderous and deeply strange.
So lock in, turn on the lava lamp, and light some incense. And maybe don’t operate heavy machinery. THEM are back, and they’ve brought the cosmos with them. Coming in strong, I’d give it a solid 4.5/5 mic drops.
