Hell - Submersus: Album Review
🔥 Key Takeaways 🔥
Submersus is a crushing, oceanic slab of funeral doom that redefines bleakness.
Hell’s sonic descent into aquatic suffocation is as heavy emotionally as it is sonically.
For fans of funeral doom, drone, and music that actively tries to drown you.
Sink First, Ask Questions Later
If your idea of a good time is staring into the abyss and asking it to hold your drink, Hell’s latest record Submersus is for you. The Pacific Northwest doom entity known simply as Hell (fronted by M.S.W., the doom hermit of Oregon) has returned in 2025 with an album that sounds like the Mariana Trench decided to release a concept record about grief, rot, and deep-sea pressure trauma.
Submersus is an apt title. This thing doesn’t just immerse you, it drags you under, fills your lungs with tar, and leaves you blissfully gasping. It’s not background music. It’s a slow-motion funeral.
Opening Ritual: “Submersus”
The title track opens with glacial-paced guitars, distant bells, and a sense of dread so thick you could ladle it. M.S.W.‘s tortured roars sound like they’re coming from inside the hull of a rusted submarine. At nearly 15 minutes, “Submersus” is as much a tone-setter as it is a dare. There are riffs here that could level cities if given enough reverb. The production is cavernous, each snare hit echoes like it’s ricocheting off underwater cliffs. Funeral doom isn’t known for its immediacy, but this track grabs you by the soul and gently whispers, “you live here now.”
“Sutured Sigh”
This track is a standout in how it weaponises restraint. Droning ambiance bleeds into tectonic shifts of distortion, with the slowest of tempos grounding the whole thing like an anchor around your chest. It’s minimal. It’s suffocating. It’s weirdly beautiful. Imagine being serenaded by a cathedral that’s collapsing into the ocean. That’s “Sutured Sigh.”
“Sink Into Oblivion”
By the time you reach this track, you’ve either surrendered to the pressure or you’re skipping ahead to a Cannibal Corpse b-side to feel alive again. But don’t give in, this one rewards you.
Massive waves of distortion roll in like a funeral tide. Clean, almost sacred melodies peek through only to be devoured by bass-heavy sludge. M.S.W. seems to be scoring your emotional breakdown in real time.
“Algae Throne”
Hell doesn’t do hooks…probably, but if Submersus has an anthem, it’s this track. There’s a rhythm here, a slow, corpse-lurching groove that drags you along like kelp around your ankles.
The guitar tone is grotesque in the best way: low, gritty, and organic. It feels like it was recorded inside a whale carcass. Lyrically, it’s hard to make out specifics (doom vocals, naturally), but the vibe is clear: guilt, futility, decay. This is the song you hear in your head when you’re spiraling at 3am after texting your ex.
Closer: “Saltwater Skin”
Ending things on a fittingly bleak note, “Saltwater Skin” layers distorted drones with sorrowful strings. The outro stretches and fades like light slipping beneath the surface. There’s no release. No crescendo. Just an exhale that never ends. It’s less a finale and more a question: “Was any of this real?”
M.S.W. continues to impress as a one-man wall of beautiful misery. The instrumentation is sparse but potent. Every sound has weight. Nothing is wasted. The production, handled in part by Billy Anderson (Sleep, Neurosis), is hauntingly immersive. You don’t just hear this album, you drown in it.
How It Fits Into Doom 2025
In a overly saturated space where doom often flirts with stoner aesthetics or psychedelic nostalgia, Hell’s Submersus stands defiantly grim. This is pure funeral doom, with just enough ambient and drone elements to keep it emotionally devastating rather than repetitive. It holds up alongside genre giants like Skepticism, Mournful Congregation, or Ahab.
But where those bands reach for transcendence, Submersus feels like it’s trying to tunnel through your spine and build a shrine in your chest cavity. One of the most honest, brutal, and bizarrely spiritual doom releases of the decade.
Submersus is not for the casual listener. It’s an album made for those who stare into deep waters and hope something stares back. It’s heavy in every sense, emotionally, sonically, spiritually. You don’t walk away from this album. You crawl, waterlogged and changed.
Written by: Chernoglav, the Hero with the Silver Moustache
“Howdy, I’m Chern. Yes, I still listen to Power Metal and yes, I still cover my face for tax reasons. I review gigs and live in the Citadel with the other half of this duopoly of doom, Chort. Oh and our dog, Ratboy.”
