Ataraxia Album Review: ALLT’s Metalcore Pop Trick (and It Works)

Discover how ALLT’s second album, Ataraxia, pushes the boundaries of metalcore with catchy choruses, heavy riffs, and experimental sounds, creating one of the most intriguing releases of the year.

Metalcore’s dumb little magic trick

Metalcore is divisive because it’s built on a simple hustle: write the catchiest chorus you can get away with, then drop a breakdown that makes the room tilt. Plenty of bands pretend that’s deeper than it is. On Ataraxia, ALLT don’t pretend—they double down, then start coloring outside the lines.

What I’m hearing on this second album is a band actively stretching its idea of what “metalcore” is allowed to include: pop-shaped choruses, chunky riffs that thump like they’ve been sanded down for maximum impact, and the kind of power-ballad pacing that makes you roll your eyes… right before it wins you over. Not always. But often enough that the record turns into one of the more interesting listens in the lane this year.

And yeah, I’m calling it: the album’s real goal isn’t heaviness. It’s control—controlling your attention with hooks, then controlling your pulse with rhythm.

New Day: the opener that refuses to play it safe

The album starts by acting like it’s going to be “electronic metalcore,” the safe modern combo meal. “New Day” opens on an electronic-tinted riff that still hits like a physical object. Then the verse slips in, and the band makes a smart move: they don’t immediately blow the chorus. They let tension build.

As the verse creeps into the pre-chorus, the harsh vocals take over—and here’s the weird part: it feels like the vocals get louder the longer you sit with them, like the mix is leaning forward into your face. The chorus is where the song tells you what Ataraxia is actually going to do: it goes for a vocal melody that’s busier than it needs to be, threading itself into the main guitar idea instead of floating above it.

On first listen, I thought the chorus might be too “clever” for its own good—like it was trying to impress me instead of hit me. But by the time other choruses show up later on the album, this one stands out precisely because it doesn’t take the easy road.

The second verse cranks the pace up; harsh vocals fully dominate, and it feels like the band is trying to prove they can still bite after flirting with melody. Then the breakdown arrives: rhythmic, physical, doing the job breakdowns are supposed to do. Still, the pivot into the final chorus feels a little forced—like the song is checking a structural box. The payoff is that third chorus, though, and those last seconds where the guitar gets quietly emotional, almost like the track exhales instead of ends.

A video break (and a clue about their aesthetic)

Enemy: the kind of chorus metalcore was built to serve

Now we get to “Enemy,” which is basically the album’s argument in three and a half minutes:

hooks can be heavy if you stop treating melody like a guilty pleasure.

It kicks off with a guitar riff that already hints at the chorus melody—one of those satisfying “oh, that’s why that riff exists” moments. The first verse is clean vocals over faint guitars, with the drums doing the heavy lifting. It’s restrained, but not in a boring way. It’s restrained like the band is saving the impact.

Then the pre-chorus drags itself out—longer than you expect—and harsh vocals tear through it. When the chorus hits, the first line lands like a door slamming. It’s not subtle. It’s also extremely catchy, and I don’t mean “catchy for metalcore.” I mean sticky.

The second verse is shorter, and I can already hear some listeners cheering because it means you get back to the chorus faster. That’s not laziness here; it’s prioritizing the thing the band knows it nailed.

The breakdown is where the track gets sneaky. There’s an almost tribal build, vocals rising, drums tightening, and instead of ditching the chorus identity, the band twists the breakdown into a harsh-vocal version of that same hook. When it finally explodes, the guitars keep mimicking the chorus notes—an unusually clever songwriting choice in a part of the song where most bands just chug and call it a day.

That’s how it ends, too: not with a “final chorus” like a sitcom ending, but with the satisfaction of realizing the chorus has been steering the whole track the entire time.

If you only play one song from Ataraxia for someone who thinks modern metalcore is all the same, this is the one that might actually change their mind—annoyingly.

Ultraviolence: when the band stops headbanging and starts tinkering

By the time “Ultraviolence” arrives (track six), Ataraxia swerves into its experimental streak more openly. It starts with a genuinely heavy riff—no warm-up, no “vibes,” just weight. And then the first verse slides into electronic territory: more synths, more drum-machine texture, less of the straight-up band feel that dominated earlier.

At first, I wasn’t sure this shift was going to hold together. The risk with this move is obvious: you trade physical impact for atmosphere, and sometimes atmosphere is just a fancy word for “nothing happens.” But the track avoids that trap by making a key decision: the chorus is mostly harsh-vocal driven. That’s a new emphasis for this album up to this point, and it works like a corrective—like the band is reminding you that experimentation doesn’t have to mean going soft.

Then the breakdown shows up, and it’s surprisingly simple. Not “simple because they gave up,” but simple like they understood the song didn’t need more decoration. It’s an effective passage that moves you into the outro, where the vocal delivery turns more precious—sung like it matters, but without melodrama spilling everywhere.

This is the song that proves ALLT can do two things at once: they can get weird with textures and still write a basic, functional metalcore transition when it serves the moment. In other words, they’re learning when to stop adding ingredients.

A reasonable listener could argue this track feels like two ideas stitched together. I get that. I also think the stitching is the point: it’s the sound of a band testing what they can merge without collapsing.

Avalon: the closer that pretends to be gentle (until it isn’t)

The closer, “Avalon,” goes for a different kind of experiment: emotional pacing. It starts like a ballad—slow, careful, almost suspiciously pretty for an album that has spent plenty of time punching holes in the wall. The journey is gradual, and the climax waits until the very end, which is either disciplined songwriting or a band daring you to stay.

The first verse and chorus lean into that pop vibe metalcore has been flirting with for years. It’s the kind of clean, accessible moment that can read as “sellout” if you’re allergic to melody. But what matters is what happens after the first chorus: the full band wakes up, and the dynamics shift. It’s not just louder; it’s like the track gains depth, like the room suddenly has walls.

After another cleanly sung segment, the breakdown comes—softer than most of the earlier ones. That’s either a letdown or a smart emotional choice depending on what you want from a breakdown. I kept waiting for it to turn violent, honestly, and it… doesn’t, not in the obvious way. Instead it funnels into a final chorus led by marching drums, and the post-chorus clean vocal part returns sounding like the most emotional singing on the whole album.

The ending leaves a somber, angry ambience hanging in the air—the kind of mood metal communities know a little too well, because it’s what you get when catharsis doesn’t fully solve anything.

And I’ll admit it: earlier in the album, I thought ALLT were mainly chasing big choruses. By the time “Avalon” finishes, it’s clearer they’re chasing aftertaste—how a song feels after it stops.

So what’s the catch? Inconsistency (but also the point)

Here’s where Ataraxia gets messy—in a way that feels both frustrating and weirdly honest.

When the album hits, it’s a blast. “Enemy” is an obvious example, and “New Day” shows real ambition in its chorus writing. But not every track carries that same level of punch or stickiness. Some moments feel less consistent, like the band hasn’t decided whether the priority is “make it hit” or “make it interesting.”

And yeah, sometimes the less catchy stretches make you notice the clock. Not because they’re bad, but because the album teaches you to expect choruses that grab you by the collar—and when a track doesn’t do that, you feel the absence.

Still, the bigger truth is this: Ataraxia sounds like a band still experimenting, still trying to locate a unique identity inside a subgenre that thrives on copying and polishing. You can hear glimpses of excellence and real emotion. The smart move from here would be to capitalize on those glimpses instead of smoothing them down into something “standard.”

If they do that, ALLT won’t just be another name in European metalcore—they’ll be a problem for anyone else trying to own this particular mix of pop instinct and blunt-force heaviness.

Release details (and where it lands for me)

Ataraxia is out now via Century Media Records.

As for my own gut-level takeaway: it lands around a 7/10 kind of experience for me—not because the highs aren’t high, but because the record occasionally trips over its own transitions and momentum. When it’s on, it’s ridiculously easy to replay. When it isn’t, I start mentally editing the tracklist like an annoying person.

You can also find ALLT on Facebook (if that’s where you keep up with bands, and no, I’m not judging… loudly).

Conclusion

Ataraxia is ALLT betting that metalcore can be hooky without turning harmless—and that heaviness can be rhythmic and pop-aware without becoming a parody of itself. The bet mostly pays off, with a few spots where the stitching shows.

Our verdict: People who like their metalcore with big choruses, smart rhythmic choices, and occasional electronic texture will actually love this. People who want nonstop brutality—or who think clean vocals are a moral failure—are going to sigh dramatically and go back to arguing online.

FAQ

• Is this an “all breakdowns” kind of metalcore album?
  No. The breakdowns matter, but the album clearly worships at the altar of the chorus.
• What’s the most immediately catchy track here?
  “Enemy” is the one that grabs fastest and refuses to let go.
• Does ALLT experiment a lot on Ataraxia?
  Enough to change the feel of certain tracks—especially “Ultraviolence” and “Avalon”—without completely abandoning heaviness.
• Is the album consistent front to back?
  Not entirely. The highs are memorable, but a few stretches don’t hit with the same certainty.
• Who is Ataraxia best for: melody fans or heavy fans?
  Melody fans who still want grit. Heavy-only fans might feel like the album keeps trying to sing them a bedtime story between punches.

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