Trivax | The Great Satan | Osmose Productions

 

 Trivax was formed in 2009 by Iranian-born frontman Shayan in Tehran, where heavy metal was not only censored but could lead to arrest, abuse, or death. After relocating to the UK, Shayan rebuilt the band into a fearless triad of sonic violence and ideological rebellion. Their roots lie in the black metal tradition, but Trivax channels far more than just aesthetic aggression. Combining musical extremity with genuine political and cultural subversion, they bridge Western metal ferocity with the historical and spiritual anguish of their Middle Eastern homeland. “The Great Satan” is their third full-length release and the culmination of years of exile, hatred, memory, and sharpened soundcraft.

“The Great Satan” is a direct assault. It doesn’t waste time flirting with mystery or relying on abstract symbolism. Its conceptual framework is grounded in lived experience and historical trauma, aiming at theocracies and systemic brutality. The title is not ironic. The album calls the enemy by name, and in doing so, strips away any distance between art and rage.

This is not a typical metal fusion album. “The Great Satan” blends black, death, and thrash elements without drawing attention to the genre mixing. The traditional instruments—particularly the oud and baglama—are not exotic flourishes but integrated elements of pain, heritage, and revolt. The transitions between languages—English, Persian, Arabic—are not gimmicks, but weapons. Each track brings a different tempo, mood, and weight, but they are unified in tone. Fury and grief are inseparable here.

The production, handled by Samuel Turbit at Ritual Sound, allows space for each layer to emerge without overwhelming the visceral core. Vocals sit scorched and high in the mix, dripping with contempt. The rhythm section moves from trance-like repetition to total assault without warning, while the guitar work is both raw and sharply articulated, never ornamental. This is a sonic document of scorched cities, executions, and spiritual warfare.

“Operation Ramadan” is the most harrowing moment, narrating child martyrdom through faith manipulation. Its length feels intentional—dragging the listener through prolonged suffering, unresolved tension, and collapse. “Ya Saheb Az Zaman” acts as a brief ritual interlude, referencing the Twelfth Imam of Shia Islam—less a prayer, more a confrontation. The closer, “Tamam Shod,” ends the album with a phrase meaning “It is finished,” not in peace, but in exhaustion.

“The Great Satan” does not provoke for effect. It confronts the listener with stories many choose to ignore, and it does so with authentic musical craft. This is not theatre. It is an execution. It is mourning. It is survival.

Score: 9.2