In a recording career that spans nearly 25 years, with a new opus arriving every couple of years, seems like eternity since we heard anything from the Swedish trio fronted by guitarist/vocalist JB Christoffersson. Actually, there was a pre-pandemic North American tour, in '19, for the Wolf God album, but the longevity of said disc was blunted by the global shutdown. So now JB, Fox (bass) and drummer Ludde are back, with nine new sonic weapons in their arsenal. 

Some call it stoner, others doom. The truth? Both are (partially) correct, but Grand Magus offer so much more. The album revolves around the classic Beowulf tale and his adversary Grendel, re-imagined through JB's lyrical lens (the title character re-christened Sunraven herein).

The music chugs along, at varying speeds, from trudge to full-out sprint, but always with that requisite, thundering heaviness. "Skybound" opener bounces and bristles with life, despite the subject matter (relating a flight to the after-life). A "welcome back" calling card moment. More metered and mid-tempo "The Wheel Of Pain" follows. First single/titular tune, "Sunraven" sticks to a similar pace, punishingly, yet melodically, working its way into your head. A recurrent guitar break, courtesy of Christoffersson, does the heavy work. Classic doom, mixed with traditional metal, such is the construct of "Winter Storms". 

Acoustic guitar intro and a cappella vocals introduce "The Black Lake", which then locks into the classic Grand Magus fuzzy/reverb riffing. Foreboding effects and a crack of thunder greet "Hour Of The Wolf", a real speedster, full of energy. Add a "whoa whoa" sing-along chorus and you've got the making of a killer in-concert favorite! 

The great heavyweights (Sabbath, Trouble, Candlemass, Cathedral, etc.) know that infusing a bit of spirit, a gallop here and there, adds an essential dynamic element, Riding the aforementioned coattails comes "Grendel", a stomping groove that belies the slower genre tags (mis)labeling the Magus. "To Herot" decelerates, back to familiar territory (big bluesy guitar), before gritty "The End Belongs To You" fittingly closes things out, with simple, repetitive, fist-thrusting lyrics that are destined for the live stage.

In the digital era, when releases frequently contain more than a dozen cuts, this less-is-more, over-too-quickly collection feels fresh and leaves the listener craving more.