Conan, founded in 2006 by Jon Davis,
has grown into one of the most resolute and unwavering presences in the global
heavy underground. Originating from the UK, the band coined the term “Caveman
Battle Doom” early in their path, and it has remained an apt shorthand for
their massive, lurching tone and primitive vocal approach. Across nearly two
decades, Conan has not drifted far from this initial compass, even as
they transitioned between lineups and adjusted their surroundings. The weight
of their sound, the density of their riffs, and their allegiance to
amplification remain their core identifiers.
After a
decade of releases across various labels and stages around the world, Conan
joined Heavy Psych Sounds in 2024. By that point, they had already
become leaders in their class—venerated in doom, stoner, sludge, and the heavy
psychedelic spheres. Their sixth studio album, “Evidence Of Immortality”,
leaned further into mood and atmosphere while still being crushingly heavy,
hinting at broader sonic interests. With David Ryley on bass (ex-Fudge
Tunnel) and Johnny King on drums, the trio is currently operating
with sharpened clarity in what they want to achieve.
“Violence Dimension,” the band’s seventh full-length, follows logically from what came before, but it arrives with a conceptual focus that lends it a particular shadow. Described by the band as an exploration of life’s tension between fearing existence and fearing its end, “Violence Dimension” finds Conan digging into psychological terrain as much as sonic destruction. The title evokes a place where threat is ever-present, not just physical but existential—a modern headspace where war, disconnection, and collapse are routine stimuli.
The album is built on massive riffing, consistent tempo restraint, and a sense of grinding physicality. The production is cavernous but focused, letting every hit from King’s kit land with purpose and ensuring that Davis’ guitar tone functions like a wall—impenetrable and wide. Ryley’s bass locks in tightly, pulsing beneath with a tone that's as much felt as heard. Vocals remain primal: barked, shouted, occasionally stretched, but always within that boundary Conan long ago laid down.
“Violence
Dimension” does not change the foundation that Conan built their name
on, nor does it attempt to. It intensifies it. The album is not about stylistic
curveballs or narrative arcs. It’s about force, weight, and the heavy resonance
of one idea pressed deeply until it becomes monolithic. Every piece serves that
aim, and in doing so, “Violence Dimension” becomes not just another entry in Conan’s
catalog but a continuation of their living architecture—one defined not by what moves but by what refuses to.
Score: 8.4
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