In This Moment “Witch” Album Review: a Hex for Power, Half-Cast

In This Moment’s ninth studio album “Witch” explores transformation and power through a blend of alternative metal and emotional theatrics, delivering moments of impact alongside uneven stretches.

A comeback that doesn’t want your permission

Two decades in, In This Moment don’t sound like a band trying to prove they belong. They sound like a band reminding you they’ve already survived the “prove it” era—and now they’re here to rewrite the rules in permanent marker.

After a three-year gap, their ninth studio album, Witch, shows up with a different mission than the last record. If Godmode was fueled by that invincible video game brain—power-up logic, cheat-code confidence—Witch feels like it’s about what happens when the power-up ends and you’re alone with your own thoughts again. That shift isn’t subtle. It’s the whole point.

What “witch” means here (and it’s not Halloween-core)

This album hangs its identity on a specific kind of femininity: not the glossy, poster-ready kind, but the one that grows teeth after it’s been cornered. The vibe is angsty, emotional, and intentionally charged—like it’s trying to turn private pain into a public weapon.

Maria Brink frames Witch as a personal transformation story: pain turned into strength, struggle turned into power, the idea of “witch” as creator and manifester. And yes, that’s dramatic. But it’s also consistent with how this band operates—big theatrical gestures, heavy symbolism, and the assumption that emotion should be loud enough to rattle the fixtures.

“Witch is my declaration of inner transformation. It’s about embracing the duality within – taking pain, persecution, and struggle – and alchemizing them into strength and power. The album reflects both ancient trials and my own journey – where being a ‘witch’ means being a creator, connected to the universe, manifesting my own reality.” — Maria Brink

I’ll admit, on my first pass I rolled my eyes a little at the “manifesting my reality” language. Then the opening track hit, and I stopped being cute about it.

“Shame” kicks the door in—and sets an unfair standard

The opener “Shame” is rip-roaring in the way only In This Moment can pull off: heavy, theatrical, and built around Brink’s voice like it’s the sharpest object in the room. The track has that haunting tint they do so well—the sense that the aggression isn’t random, it’s targeted.

And here’s the trick: “Shame” makes Witch feel like it’s about to be a full album of hard-edged catharsis. It’s a fantastic start. It also kind of sabotages what comes next, because you spend the next few tracks waiting for that same bite to come back.

“I Want To Believe” tries to coast (and I can’t pretend it doesn’t)

Then “I Want To Believe” follows—and compared to “Shame,” it lands as weirdly average. Not unlistenable, not embarrassing, just… there. It’s the kind of track that feels like it’s shaped correctly on paper, but the core doesn’t hit. I kept waiting for a moment—a lyric turn, a melodic spike, something—to give it a spine. It never really arrives.

The guest collaborators Dayseeker are a smart choice in theory, and I don’t dislike the pairing. But the song still feels like it’s avoiding risk. It’s like watching someone light a candle when you came for a bonfire.

That’s my mild gripe right up front: Witch occasionally confuses “moody” with “finished.”

“Crawl” is the album remembering exactly who it is

Luckily, “Crawl” snaps back into the band’s wheelhouse. This is the In This Moment sound people show up for—big alt-metal framing, electronic pulse underneath, and synths that don’t just decorate the track, they steer it.

The chorus has a modern metal glow that made me think of the sleeker end of the scene—honestly, it’s not far off the kind of hook-forward momentum Bad Omens have been leaning into lately. And no, that’s not an insult. It’s the song choosing impact over atmosphere, and it pays off.

“Into The Dark” goes electronic—and this time it backfires

Next comes “Into The Dark,” and it leans hard into electronic production. That isn’t automatically a problem—this band can absolutely make electronics feel dangerous. But here, it drags.

Four minutes and 25 seconds is a long time to feel like a track is waiting for itself to start. The energy dips, and not in a deliberate “calm before the storm” way. More like the album walked into a different room and forgot why.

I’m not even fully sure what the intention was—maybe it’s meant to be a hypnotic comedown after “Crawl.” If that’s the goal, I get it. But as a listening experience, it plays like a speed bump you can’t drive around.

And this is the point where the record starts to slope downward.

When the middle stretch starts slipping through your hands

After “Into The Dark,” Witch hits a stretch where tracks feel less like chapters and more like leftovers. “Sleeping With The Enemy” should be a title that bites. Instead, it passes by without leaving much behind.

Then there’s the cover of Sting’s “Wrapped Around Your Finger.” Covers are risky on a record like this because In This Moment are already theatrical—so a cover needs a reason to exist beyond “we can make it darker.” Here, it doesn’t fully justify itself. It’s not offensive. It’s just forgettable, which is worse. Forgettable means it didn’t even fail loudly.

This is where my first impression changed again: I started the album thinking it was going to be a straight shot of power and transformation. Midway through, it starts feeling like a concept album that occasionally loses interest in its own concept.

“Without Me There’s No You” sounds great… and still doesn’t peak

“Without Me There’s No You” is frustrating because you can hear the quality in the production. The surfaces are polished. The tones are chosen with care. But the track doesn’t really build—there’s no satisfying crest where the emotion becomes physical.

It’s like the song is circling a breakthrough and refusing to land. And with a band like this, withholding the payoff can be a powerful choice—if it feels intentional. Here it just feels like the song runs out of runway.

The curveball that actually works: Pink Floyd turned into a haunting metal ritual

Then the album throws its best curveball: a cover of Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick In The Wall.” This one actually earns its spot.

Instead of treating the original like a museum piece, the band drags it into their world—adds a haunting metal flavor, makes it feel like a chant you’d hear echoing down a hallway you shouldn’t be in. The production credit attached to it—Kat Von D—makes sense in context because the track leans into atmosphere, shadow, and that stylized darkness that’s more cinematic than “raw.”

This is one of the moments that redeems the record because it shows commitment. It’s not just a cover. It’s In This Moment insisting that an iconic song can be re-skinned into their language and still carry weight.

The closer reaches for the sky, but doesn’t hit as hard

The album closes with “Something I Can Never Have.” It keeps that same atmospheric fog—slow-burning, spacious, emotionally loaded. I wanted it to land like a final spell being completed.

It didn’t quite get there for me. Not because it’s bad, but because it’s following the Pink Floyd cover, which already delivered the haunted payoff. By comparison, the closer feels less impactful, like the curtain call after the real finale already happened.

So what is “Witch” actually doing? Trying to alchemize—and sometimes leaving the gold unfinished

There are absolutely strong pieces on Witch—especially “Crawl” and the reinvention of “Another Brick In The Wall.” But the full 11-track run doesn’t consistently hit the target it sets in the opening statement.

To me, this album is trying to transmute personal struggle into power. The problem is that some tracks don’t sound transformed—they sound stuck in the process. And if you’re going to sell “inner transformation” as the core theme, the music has to feel like it’s changing shape in your hands, not just changing textures.

It also can’t help but invite comparison to past peaks—especially 2012’s Blood, which still looms like a reference point for how sharp and complete this band can sound when everything locks in.

If I’m putting a number on how it landed, it sits around a 6/10 kind of effectiveness for me: enough highlights to remember, enough flat spots to make me impatient.

Witch is out now via Better Noise Music.

Conclusion

Witch starts like a declaration and ends like a complicated diary entry—some pages burned into the paper, others weirdly blank. When it commits to impact (“Shame,” “Crawl,” “Another Brick In The Wall”), it feels like the band is steering the storm. When it drifts (“Into The Dark,” parts of the mid-run), it feels like the storm is steering them.

Our verdict: People who like In This Moment at their most theatrical—and don’t mind a few sleepy stretches in exchange for big moments—will enjoy Witch. If you need every track to punch, you’re going to get annoyed and start checking how much time is left. This album’s for the listeners who like their empowerment messy, not efficient.

FAQ

• Is “Witch” heavier than “Godmode”?
  Not consistently. It swaps the invincibility vibe for something more personal, and the heaviness comes in bursts rather than as a constant.
• What are the essential tracks on “Witch”?
  “Shame” and “Crawl” are the clearest statements, and the “Another Brick In The Wall” cover is the most successful curveball.
• Does the electronic production help or hurt the album?
  Both. It sharpens tracks like “Crawl,” but “Into The Dark” shows how quickly it can drain momentum when the song doesn’t build.
• Are the cover songs worth it?
  The Pink Floyd cover works because it transforms the original into something genuinely eerie. The Sting cover, for me, doesn’t leave much of a mark.
• Will fans of “Blood” be satisfied?
  Parts of it will scratch that itch, but the album doesn’t consistently reach that level of locked-in intensity and payoff.

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