The legacy and importance of At The Gates to the history of heavy music cannot be overstated. Anyone reading this is likely aware of the immense influence they hold, and if not there are many people who have spoken about this more eloquently and at greater length than I ever could. If you’re somehow unfamiliar, I would encourage you to stop reading now and listen to Slaughter of the Soul, but I’d worry you’d be too enchanted ever to return. That lofty status only makes listening to and reviewing what is almost definitely the final At The Gates album much more daunting even putting aside the circumstances around its creation.

Last year, At The Gates released a statement announcing that their vocalist and co-founder Tomas “Tompa” Lindberg had passed away from cancer. They also went on to state the vocals on this album were almost entirely recorded in a single day. The day before Lindberg went in for surgery to have part of the roof of his mouth removed in an attempt to combat the illness. Regardless of the quality of this album or his performance, this qualifies Lindberg as nothing less than a fucking hero.

Thankfully, he sounds incredible. His distinct, iconic scream hurtles at the listener working just as well in the heavier moments of the record as on the occasional quieter parts. The tone and character of his voice isn’t much different than it had been on any of the previous post-reunion At The Gates albums and that’s fine by me. I wouldn’t want any other voice on these songs, he fits the band so perfectly. Make no mistake, I’m not taking it easy on this performance because of his illness, I’d be praising it regardless. There’s a reason why a simple bark of “Go!” is iconic over thirty years later, and Lindberg’s voice has only matured with age.

Instrumentally, At The Gates are on their usual, razor sharp form. The riffing style that shaped twenty first century metal is in place all over this album, from the storming opener – The Fever Mask – to the very end of the album on Black Hole Emmission, At The Gates deliver the furious melodic death metal they’ve become iconic for. You get exactly what you’re expecting – dense, technical riffs, sweeping guitar harmonies and a production that’s equal parts clear and impactful.

But it’s not just the expected style on this record that’s great; all the shifts away from typical flow of their songs are wonderful too. At The Gates have always had an experimental flare to them, and those moments here are as brilliant as ever. The loose, elastic riff at the start of Phantom Gospel is a refreshing change of pace from the usual tightness the band bring, and the shift in feel to that riff when they start to tremolo pick it in the verses is just masterful. The wider, more expansive In Dark Distortion separates the halves of the album nicely and the filthy beat down riff that his halfway through The Unfathomable made me let out an audible grunt, like the breath had just been knocked out of my lungs, the first time I heard it. Given the number of bands who openly recycled At The Gates’ riffs in the early 2000s and slapped them along side lazy breakdowns, this almost feels like a flex to show that yes, they are one of the best to ever do it.

Closing the album on an emotionally devastating double act, was the only way this album could really end. Förgängligheten is a mostly acoustic instrumental with a haunting, mournful lead guitar floating over the top. It bought a tear to my eye on my first listed, and still carries the spectre of loss that looms over this album even after so many repeats. The closer of Black Hole Emission effectively packages that same emotion into one final death metal rager. The arpeggiated chords behind the chorus, and the tremelo picked bridge carry the sadness perfectly, before the song collapses into slower territory with lead guitarist Ander Björler delivering one of the best solos I’ve ever heard, really channelling the emotion. The album ends with a chord just hanging for long enough to let you sit with your feelings about the whole thing, which is somehow sadder than anything else here.

The Ghost of a Future Dead is a fitting send off to one of the best bands to ever do it. I have nothing more to add beyond raising the horns to Tomas Lindberg. Rest in peace Tompa, you’ll never be forgotten.