Necropalace - Worm New Album

Between catacombs and obsessions

I discovered Worm the way one stumbles upon an underground cult: nothing is immediate, nothing is easy, but everything is deeply magnetic. The project has always orbited Death/Doom with a funereal and obsessive aesthetic, building its identity more through atmosphere than brute force. From the beginning, it was clear the band never wanted to sound accessible, the goal has always been to create its own space, enclosed, almost claustrophobic, where every detail reinforces this sense of ritualistic decay.

With Necropalace, that identity not only remains intact but becomes more defined. It feels as if Worm has finally found the ideal architecture to house its ideas: a palace in ruins, where each room carries a specific emotional weight. Nothing here sounds rushed or casual. There is intention in every choice.

A layered experience

Listening to Necropalace, the first sensation does not come from the riffs, but from the atmosphere. The album moves with slow, calculated steps, creating a continuous tension that never erupts in an obvious way. The guitars alternate between dense, dragging passages and more melodic, almost ethereal moments, yet always wrapped in a dark haze.

Death/Doom here is not merely a stylistic label, it functions as a language. The riffs carry weight, but also melancholy. The melodies do not sound comforting, they seem corroded by time. Everything contributes to a feeling of isolation, as if the listener were walking alone through endless corridors.

Vocals as a narrative element

The vocals follow the same logic as the album: no exaggerated protagonism. They emerge as part of the scenery, functioning almost like another instrument. The tone is harsh and cavernous, reinforcing the sense of ritual and decay without resorting to dramatic excess. It is not about pure aggression, but persistence, a constant lament that accompanies the entire work.

This balance helps prevent the album from becoming tiring, even with its slow and dense approach. Worm understands the limits of repetition and knows how to use small variations to maintain interest without breaking immersion.

An unexpected but precise presence

Within this closed and introspective universe, a special guest stands out precisely because it does not disrupt the atmosphere: Marty Friedman, the guitarist known worldwide for his work with Megadeth. His contribution appears on the track 'Subaqueous Funeral', where his solo adds a distinct, almost ghostly melodic layer.

Far from sounding out of place, Friedman’s participation feels carefully integrated into the album’s concept. His expressive and sinuous style dialogues with the music’s decadent mood, functioning more as an instrumental lament than a moment of gratuitous virtuosity. It is a detail that enriches the album without stealing the focus from Worm.

Cohesion above all

What strikes me most about Necropalace is how well it works as a whole. It is not a record made for isolated tracks or standout moments. Each song seems to exist in relation to the one before and after it, like chapters of the same narrative. This cohesion is one of the album’s greatest strengths and also defines its audience: anyone entering this experience must be willing to listen with time and attention.

Worm does not attempt to modernize its sound or make it more palatable. On the contrary, it deepens its own obsessions and delivers a work that sounds honest, dense, and faithful to its proposal.

A palace for the few

By the end of the listen, Necropalace leaves the feeling of having crossed a closed, heavy, and introspective space. It is not an album for everyone, nor does it seem to want to be. But for those who appreciate Death/Doom steeped in atmosphere, identity, and patience, it reveals itself as a solid, almost hypnotic work.

Worm does not reinvent the genre, but builds something of its own within it, a dark palace that does not invite, yet accepts those willing to enter.