In a music world often driven by algorithms and catchy soundbites, God of the Dead, the latest full-length album by Illinois-based band Rosetta West, arrives like a thunderstorm on a clear day—loud, unpredictable, and absolutely impossible to ignore. Led by founder and primary songwriter Joseph Demagore, Rosetta West has long carved out a unique space on the fringes of blues rock, with deep roots in mysticism, psychedelia, and global folk traditions. With God of the Dead, they’ve delivered a sprawling, genre-blurring work that’s as emotionally raw as it is musically ambitious.
If their previous release Gravity Sessions was tight, focused, and minimal, God of the Dead throws open every door and lets the wind blow through. At times chaotic and other times tender, it’s a deliberately wild ride—and that’s part of its magic.
The most striking thing about God of the Dead is how much ground it covers—yet somehow without losing its sense of identity. This isn’t just a blues rock album. It’s a séance, a dream sequence, a howl into the void, and a whispered confession, all stitched together with Joseph Demagore’s unmistakable voice and vision. You’ll hear distorted guitars ripping through “Boneyard Blues,” only to be followed by a sparse piano ballad or a slow-burning acoustic piece that feels like it was written in candlelight.
The band’s lineup on this record contributes to its layered sound. Demagore handles vocals, guitars, and piano with a raw, lived-in quality—never overproduced, always deeply felt. Mike Weaver and Nathan Q. Scratch share drum duties, bringing both drive and chaos to different tracks. Longtime Rosetta West bassist Orpheus Jones grounds the chaos with his low-end presence, while guest musicians Louis Constant and Caden Cratch add texture and energy to key tracks.
But make no mistake—this is not a record that plays it safe. From feedback-drenched instrumentals that push the limits of blues rock, to almost punk-like urgency in some tracks, to quiet moments of spiritual reflection, God of the Dead resists easy categorization. It doesn’t want to be background music. It wants your full attention.
Lyrically, God of the Dead delves deep into the shadows. Rosetta West has always been fascinated with the mystical and the spiritual, and this album takes those themes to new depths. The title alone hints at something ancient and unsettling, and the songs reflect that mood: loss, death, transcendence, and transformation echo throughout.
Yet there’s also beauty here—moments of clarity, aching vulnerability, and even humor. The storytelling is vivid and full of strange details, almost like blues-fueled folk tales or poetic fever dreams. It’s the kind of writing that makes you want to go back and listen again, not just for the sound, but for the meaning hiding underneath.
Rosetta West has built a cult following over years of fiercely independent work—largely outside of mainstream platforms like Spotify. Their music is scattered across Bandcamp, YouTube, and places much stranger. The band’s mythology feels almost as important as the music itself: haunted shipwrecks, graveyards, dim-lit basement shows. But God of the Deaddoesn’t rely on mystique alone. The music stands tall on its own merit, offering both grit and grace in every track.
This album is a culmination of everything Rosetta West has stood for: uncompromising creativity, emotional honesty, and an absolute refusal to conform. It’s long, yes. It’s messy in places. But it’s also alive in a way few albums dare to be.
God of the Dead is not designed for passive listening. It demands your time, your openness, and maybe even your discomfort. But if you let it pull you in, you’ll find an album bursting with heart, vision, and fire. It’s a rare thing these days: an album made not for market trends or playlists, but for the sake of art itself.
If you’re into blues rock that’s been dragged through the dirt, lit on fire, and then rebuilt with piano and poetry—this is for you. If you like your music strange, spiritual, and untamed—this is definitely for you.
Rosetta West hasn’t just made an album. With God of the Dead, they’ve made a statement: real music still matters, and it’s still out there, waiting in the shadows for someone to listen.
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