Starbenders: The Beast Goes On

Starbenders return with their most focused and fully formed record yet in The Beast Goes On, a 13-track surge of synth-laced rock that feels sleek and self-aware. Out February 27 via Sumerian Records, the album doesn’t chase trends or retreat into revivalism. Instead, it reshapes familiar textures into something dramatic and modern.

From the opening stretch, the band leans into shimmering synths and punchy guitar lines without sanding off the rough edges. The production is glossy but not sterile, there’s tension in the mix, a sense that the songs could tip into chaos at any moment. That push and pull gives the record its pulse. Hooks arrive quickly, but they’re rarely predictable. Choruses rise high, then twist unexpectedly, keeping the energy alive across the album’s runtime.

Lyrically, The Beast Goes On touches on themes such as love, loss, obsession and reinvention. On ‘Cold Silver’, Kimi Shelter delivers one of the album’s most cutting lines: “If I was perfect I wouldn’t need the pills, I'm so f*cking lonely, I don't know how to feel”. It’s not framed as a plea for sympathy, but as a stark acknowledgment of pressure, expectation and self-medication in a world obsessed with polish. Moments like this give the album its backbone. The writing favours sharp, uncomfortable truths over easy drama, which makes the emotional swings feel grounded and real. There’s a dark romantic current running throughout, but it’s matched by urgency and defiance. Even in its most introspective passages, the record keeps moving forward.

Shelter commands the center with a voice that shifts from detached control to open confrontation in a heartbeat. Aaron Lecesne’s bass lines bring weight and groove, Kriss Tokaji’s guitar work slices cleanly through the synth glow and Qi Wei’s drumming keeps everything driving and precise. Together, they create a sound that feels cohesive and deliberate, yet never restrained.

The album closes with a striking reinterpretation of Bad Religion’s ‘21st Century (Digital Boy)’. Rather than simply replicating the original’s punchy skate-punk urgency, Starbenders reframe it through their own lens. The tempo surges, but the band layers in glossy synth textures and a bold vocal performance that turns the song into something theatrical and sharp-edged. It feels less like a tribute and more like a reclamation, pulling the track into a new era without losing its bite. The result is one of the record’s strongest moments — familiar, but newly charged.

What stands out most is the band’s refusal to dilute their identity. Glam flash, goth shimmer and streaks of metal and synth-pop all coexist naturally here. The Beast Goes On is confident and clear in its intent: Starbenders aren’t trying to fit neatly into modern alternative rock. They’re stretching it, reshaping it and pushing it somewhere more vivid and bold.