Zakk Wylde always did have his priorities straight. “Less is more with everything,” he reckons, “except the guitar solos and coffee.” You don’t need to spend long with Engines of Demolition to realise he’s absolutely living by that mantra.
Written across long miles on the road with Pantera and finished with the kind of perspective only time (and probably a frightening amount of espresso) can give you, this is a record that feels lived in. Not just played, not just performed—lived in. The highs, the lows, and everything in between are etched into every riff and every note.
“Name In Blood” opens things with a surprisingly light, almost melifluous touch before Wylde lets rip. Vocally, there are moments where he channels Ozzy Osbourne so closely it’s almost eerie—but then the solo arrives and reminds you exactly whose record this is.
“Gatherer of Souls” is, frankly, groovy as hell. There’s a mid-period Corrosion of Conformity swagger to it—think “Albatross” with a bit more muscle—and it just rolls along with total confidence. If that’s the strut, then “The Hand of Tomorrow’s Grave” is the stomp: a title that promises doom and delivers in spades, all weight and presence.
But the beauty of Black Label Society has always been the balance, and Wylde leans into that hard here. “Better Days & Wiser Times” is a reminder of his Pride & Glory roots—southern-tinged, warm, and full of melody. It’s gorgeous, plain and simple. Likewise, “Back To Me” shows a deftness of touch, the keys weaving into the lead guitar in a way that feels almost effortless.
Elsewhere, the band hit harder. “Broken and Blind” is driven forward with real force before kicking into gear with a gloriously simple “oh yeah,” while “The Gallows” is pure, archetypal BLS—no frills, just heavy, honest metal. “Lord Humungus” follows suit, all slashing riff and intent, built around that beautifully simple idea: let’s live before we die.
“Above & Below” might be one of the most complete pieces here, shifting between light and shade with real finesse, while “Pedal To The Floor” feels like a mission statement—“it’s all that keeps me alive,” Wylde sings, and you suspect he’s talking about more than just the music… but also not not talking about the music.
By the time you reach “The Stranger,” steeped in heavy blues, and “Broken Pieces,” which leans hard into hooks, the record has already given you plenty. But it saves its most powerful moment for last.
“Ozzy’s Song” is exactly what you’d hope—and maybe more than you’d expect. Heartfelt without being overblown, it’s Wylde laying it all out for the man he’s always called “the boss.” Lines like “the skies will cry” carry real weight, but it’s the guitar that says the most. The solo here isn’t about speed or flash—it’s about feeling. And it might just be the most expressive thing he’s ever played.
When he sings, “when all is said and done, I couldn’t ask for more,” it doesn’t just close the song—it sums up the whole record.
This is a man completely comfortable with who he is. No reinvention, no chasing trends—just Zakk Wylde doing exactly what he does, and doing it brilliantly.
RATING: 9/10
