Anybody who says about life that less is more—except for coffee and guitar solos—is my kind of person.

Zakk Wylde’s first album with Black Label Society in five years is a successful doom-rock outing, bringing the heaviness and energy but none of the frills or meandering. Most of the tracks clock in under four minutes, showing Wylde’s gift for immediately creating a doomy atmosphere but getting out before things get too stuck in the mire.

Wylde has kept busy, of course, with his Ozzy and reformed Pantera projects, but continued to write songs over the last few years. The tracks here were written between 2022 and 2025, but it took the July 2025 death of Ozzy to galvanize Wylde to finish and release this set in early 2026. Ozzy and Wylde were collaborators and friends since the late 1980s, of course; few artists come to mind who can so effortlessly recall the classic Black Sabbath sound, and Wylde was mostly responsible for shaping Ozzy’s output post Randy Rhoads.

So it stands to reason that the Ozzy/Sabbath sound is all over this album, with a dash of late-period Alice in Chains, Pantera and, in spots, a new bluesy Southern-fried country sound. That mellowing, whiskey-soaked approach appears on “Back to Me” and “Better Days & Wiser Times,” which break up the heavier tracks here and create a real flow to the album.

But if you want heavy, you’ve got “Lord Humungus” and “Name In Blood,” all stomping riffs and guitar solos, or the sludgy “Hand Of Tomorrow’s Grave” and “Broken And Blind,” or the relatively upbeat “Gatherer Of Souls,” which is an odd way to describe doom metal but trust me bro when I say the track damn near swings. “The Stranger” is a highlight, ripping off a killer solo to start the song until Wylde comes in with the vocals about 30 seconds later, and the gas never lets up

Granted, Wylde sounds so much like Ozzy in spots that it veers toward homage at times, though that’s more of an observation and not a criticism, considering the inextricable link between those two. This is made evident in the beautiful, piano-led closing track, “Ozzy’s Song,” Wylde’s ode to his boss, mentor and friend of four decades. Heartfelt but not maudlin, it ends the album on a melancholy but appropriate note. Sabbath albums had their pensive moments as well, proof of heart below the heaviness. And as expected, Wylde pours his heart into the guitar solo.

Engines of Demolition doesn’t really break new ground for BLS, but it’s good to hear these guys after five years, and the slower cuts here show Wylde and Chris Stapleton may do well to collaborate in the future should Wylde ever choose to take it down a notch. But based on the bulk of this album, that won’t happen anytime soon. Fine by me.

Rating: B

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