Cursum Perficio Review: Anthrax “Retire” Like It’s a Threat (Again)

Anthrax’s Cursum Perficio sounds like a band daring time to catch them. It’s loud, reflective, and suspiciously alive for a “final lap” record.

The long gap is the first riff you notice

February 26, 2016 wasn’t that long ago, but it also kind of was. The UK was still in the EU, Barack Obama was still US President, and nobody was building their personality around words like “lockdown” yet. That’s also the last time Anthrax put out a studio album—which is wild when you remember they’re supposed to be one of thrash metal’s working-class lifers.

They’ve earned their Big Four seat (yes, even if someone in your group chat still argues about it like it’s a zoning dispute). And because they’ve been relatively stingy with albums—this is only the third in the last 15 years—new Anthrax doesn’t land like “new music.” It lands like a heavy object.

Cursum Perficio drops Friday, September 18, as their 12th studio album, arriving via Megaforce and Nuclear Blast. That label pairing already tells you what kind of operation this is: legacy with muscle, not some artsy reinvention.

No reinvention—just a reminder of who owns this corner

Here’s the part where I expected “solid veteran record” and got something more annoying: they sound fresh. Not “young,” not “new band energy,” but sharp—like they’ve been quietly sanding the edges of their own formula until it cuts again.

They don’t turn everything on its head on Cursum Perficio, and honestly, why would they? After four-and-a-half decades, the most rebellious thing Anthrax can do is refuse to cosplay as anything else.

Lead single “It’s For The Kids” swaggers in with a groove that feels like it’s smirking at you. The rhythm guitar tone is pure Scott Ian—immediately recognizable, big enough to lean on—and it drives the song toward a breakdown that’s not trying to be clever. It’s trying to be seismic. And it succeeds.

“Everybody’s Got a Plan” gives Joey Belladonna one of those choruses where he doesn’t just sing; he spits. It’s got that razor delivery that makes the message feel less like “commentary” and more like getting yelled at by a guy who’s watched society trip over its own shoelaces for decades.

Then “NYC 93” comes in on Charlie Benante’s rolling drum groove and plants a classic Anthrax gang-vocal hook. The line—“It ain’t worth doing unless you do it to death”—is the kind of street-wise motto that makes other thrash bands sound like they’re studying for a test. Anthrax always sounded like they learned this stuff the hard way.

And yeah, someone could argue this is just the band running their usual plays. I’d argue that’s the point: they’re running them with frightening accuracy.

The album’s real trick: it sounds like fun, but it’s not carefree

For all the energy and chest-out bravado, Cursum Perficio has a thread of self-reflection stitched right through the amps. It starts with the title. The Latin translation lands as “I complete the course” or “my journey is over,” and that’s not subtle. That’s a band choosing a name that stares directly at the obvious question: is this it?

I can’t tell if Anthrax means it literally. Part of me thinks they’re just enjoying the drama of a grand title—because, come on, Latin is basically the musical equivalent of fog machines. But the wording isn’t accidental, and the record keeps circling the idea of time like it’s a rival.

There’s no official confirmation baked into the music itself, but there are moments where they sound like they’re standing at the edge of their own career and actually looking down.

“The Long Goodbye” admits what the fast songs won’t

“The Long Goodbye” is where the mood turns, not with a sudden genre switch, but with a lyrical honesty that makes the room feel a little colder. Belladonna drops a line that sticks because it’s blunt and weirdly tender:

“The world is getting older/Feels like the memory’s over” — Joey Belladonna

That doesn’t sound like a band pretending to be immortal. That sounds like someone noticing the calendar and not joking about it.

And here’s my revised first impression: on my first pass, I took that as pure “end-of-era” theater—just a dramatic flourish. On second listen, it felt less like performance and more like acceptance. Not resignation. More like: we see where this goes, and we’re not flinching.

That’s a risky vibe for a thrash record because it can drain the adrenaline. Anthrax mostly dodges that trap by keeping the songs physical—riff-forward, rhythm-punchy—even when the words are staring into the mirror.

Scott Ian’s bold claim—and why it’s useful even if it’s wrong

“The Edge Of Perfection” comes in with a clean, melodic intro before it shifts into a combination of pace and stomp. It’s not the most complicated maneuver, but it’s effective because it frames the song like a before-and-after: calm clarity, then the grind of trying to live up to something impossible.

Lyrically, it leans introspective—a lament about striving for human flawlessness and never actually reaching it. Which, frankly, is a very grown-up theme for a band that helped define music designed to knock over furniture.

Scott Ian has called it “the greatest Anthrax song in the history of Anthrax.” That’s such an aggressively Scott Ian thing to say that it almost doesn’t matter whether you agree. I don’t fully agree—at least not yet. But the claim does something important: it frames the track as a mission statement, not just another cut. It tells you the band is still competing, even if the only opponent left is themselves.

If you think that’s ego, fair. I hear it as a band refusing to drift into “pleasant late-career competence.”

The title track walks in like a finale and dares you to blink

The “Cursum Perficio” title track starts progressively, like it’s building a doorway instead of a pit. Then it opens up into what feels like an ode to the end of the journey—facing death as an equal rather than a horror-movie jump scare.

That’s not a typical thrash posture. Thrash usually wants to fight the universe. This track sounds like it’s willing to shake hands with it.

Jonathan Donais steps into the spotlight with one of the album’s excellent guitar solos, and the soloing across the record is worth calling out: it’s not “shred for shred’s sake.” It’s melodic, purposeful, and placed like punctuation. You can disagree with me, but I’ll say it anyway: the solos here feel like the band insisting on clarity, not chaos. They’re not trying to impress teenagers. They’re trying to land the thought.

The contradiction that makes the album work

Here’s the funny tension inside Cursum Perficio: it’s loud enough to convince you they’ve got another decade in them, but it keeps talking like it’s writing letters from the end of the road.

Anthrax aren’t getting younger. That’s just math. And yet the performances don’t sag. If anything, the record feels energized by the idea of an ending. Like they’re treating the possibility of a final album as a reason to swing harder, not soften up.

I kept waiting for a “coasting” moment—a filler track, a section where the riffs feel copied-and-pasted out of habit. And… I’m not totally sure I found it. There are spots where the straightforwardness borders on predictability, though. If I’m nitpicking, some transitions lean a little too comfortably on familiar Anthrax mechanics: groove, gang vocal, breakdown, repeat. It works, but it also shows the seams if you’re listening with the lights on.

Still, if this really is a swansong (and that’s a big if), it’s not one of those polite, soft-focus goodbyes. It’s a goodbye that shows up early, knocks on your door, and then insists you come outside and get yelled at—in a reassuring way.

Release details that matter (because the timing is part of the message)

Cursum Perficio is set for release on September 18 via Nuclear Blast Records and Megaforce Records. That matters because it frames the album as a proper statement, not a surprise drop or a tossed-off epilogue. The whole presentation screams intention: this is a real chapter, not a footnote.

And if you want the social-media breadcrumb: Anthrax are on Facebook. (Yes, that’s still a sentence you can write in 2026 without it being a cry for help.)

Where I land on it (yes, even the number)

I’m not pretending numbers are science, but if someone cornered me and demanded one, I’d land around 8/10. Not because the album is flawless—perfection is literally the thing it’s arguing against—but because it hits the rare veteran sweet spot: it sounds like Anthrax, and it sounds like they still mean it.

A reasonable listener could say this is just a tighter version of what they’ve always done. I’d counter that doing your thing this convincingly, this late, is its own kind of aggression.

Conclusion

Cursum Perficio plays like a band staring at the finish line and deciding to sprint at it—not to beat death, but to make sure death knows who showed up. It’s thrash with groove, hooks with teeth, and just enough reflection to make the fast parts feel earned instead of automatic.

Our verdict: People who like their thrash with swagger, big choruses, and the faint smell of mortality will actually love this. If you need reinvention, trendy production tricks, or a band to pretend they’re 24 forever, you’re going to call it “predictable” and feel very proud of yourself.

FAQ

• What is the core theme of Cursum Perficio?
  It keeps circling endings—legacy, time, and the idea of completing a journey—without turning into a slow, sentimental farewell.
• Does the album change Anthrax’s sound dramatically?
  No, and that’s the point. It doubles down on their identity: groove-heavy thrash, gang vocals, and riffs that don’t apologize.
• Which track best shows the album’s introspective side?
  “The Long Goodbye,” where the lyrics lean into aging and memory without dressing it up.
• Is “The Edge Of Perfection” really an all-timer?
  It’s framed like one, and it earns the confidence—but whether it’s the greatest is the kind of argument Anthrax probably wants you to have.
• Will this satisfy listeners who only want classic-era thrash energy?
  Yes, because the pacing and attack are still there; it just comes with more awareness in the lyrics than you might expect.

If this album’s artwork and “final lap” energy stuck with you, a clean album-cover poster hits the wall nicely—no speech required. You can browse prints at our store: https://www.architeg-prints.com/