In the technical sense, every previous album by the radiant and heavy French trio SLIFT has been a fantasia-a composite of genres and forms that allowed the band to improvise, to jam on themes until they seemed to spiral together into space. Their acclaimed third album, 2024's Ilion, was a sci-fi story built with 10- to 13-minute exploratory escapades, often starting with doom metal or stoner rock before spinning freely into glorious instrumental oblivion. But, in a bit of intentional irony, SLIFT's fourth album is actually called Fantasia. It's their leanest and most direct record to date. It is also their most riveting album yet, a pointed saga about overcoming international upheaval delivered by a band bearing down, not wasting a single second in the process.
Though only Jean and bassist Rémi Fossat are related, SLIFT is essentially a band of brothers. They've been friends with drummer Canek Flores since high school, and 2026 marks a decade together in this trio. They rehearse with religious regularity in a basement in the countryside near Toulouse, inside the jam room where they've long indulged their propensity for longform wonder. But they built the songs of Fantasia differently. Jean started many of the songs by himself, then quickly brought them to basement rehearsals with a clear and concise idea of how he imagined them taking shape. By the time they crossed France's northern border into Belgium to record in the enormous live room at Daft Studios, they had a tight set of lean, agile, and punchy songs. The band's vast influences are evident: the album evokes Clutch getting wild, John Coltrane, Charlie Parker, Soviet writer Mikhail Bulgakov, Pink Floyd, and Master of Reality-era Sabbath. And the sonic tapestry is aided by the skillful mixing of Kurt Ballou (Converge, Cave In, High on Fire). The songs aren't lacking the complexity or intensity that have made SLIFT a rising star in heavy music; they've simply found new ways to weave the complexities of their past inside every piece, like a tapestry that reveals a new layer every time you look. In doing so, they offer an affirming and urgent message: Together, we can still change the times in which we live. It is dreadfully easy these days to feel powerless. SLIFT reckons directly with the modern onslaught of cruelty and absurdity on Fantasia, whether that's not caring about our home planet or one another. But these eight songs are about trusting in some hidden power for fighting back, for believing in a world where something we cannot yet articulate or define offers not just a way to disrupt the status quo but perhaps to destroy it completely. SLIFT is loud, heavy, and aggressive inside these anthems. They're preparing for a battle they think we can still win.
