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Abigail Williams seems to suffer from the same fate that a band like Job for a Cowboy does, forever judged by their earliest material, and often unfairly so. It’s a classic case of first impressions sticking around way too hard, and in Abigail Williams’ case and in Job for a Cowboy’s case, it’s a huge mistake on fans’ part.

Way back in 2008, Abigail Williams released their debut album In the Shadow of a Thousand Suns, which leaned pretty heavily into a metalcore-tinged symphonic black metal style, complete with very polished production and orchestral flourishes. And sure, that made them a lightning rod for criticism from black metal purists at the time, but that’s only one chapter in a much deeper story from a band that became very good.

By 2010’s In the Absence of Light, Abigail Williams had already begun to shed those early influences in favor of a more stripped-down symphonic black metal approach. Then came Becoming in 2012, which expanded their sound even further with long-form songwriting and atmospheric passages that really showed a lot of ambition and growth. These were not the moves of a band that was content to stay where they started.

Then came The Shift. In 2015, Abigail Williams released what remains, in my opinion, one of the best records of the 2010s, and that is The Accuser. The Accuser was a major turning point in Abigail Williams’ career. It’s vicious, ugly, and raw, a seething black metal assault that burned away any lingering doubts about the band’s credibility and ability to be as heavy as they are.

The Accuser was the moment that people really started to take notice. They fully embraced a darker, more unfiltered vision, and I think it really, really worked.

Four years later, Abigail Williams returned with Walk Beyond the Dark in 2019, and while it didn’t quite hit with the same scalding intensity as The Accuser, it was still a very impressive evolution. In many ways, it was their most technically proficient and death metal–infused album to date. The songwriting was tighter, the atmosphere even more immersive, and it proved once again that Abigail Williams was a band unafraid to push themselves forward and in brand new directions.

So if you’re still writing off Abigail Williams based on their earlier material, you’re definitely missing out, and that’s a huge problem because Abigail Williams’ first new record in six years, A Void Within Existence, is really, really good.

Much like its title suggests, A Void Within Existence is a desolate and lonely record that examines the spaces left in the wake of absence. As Abigail Williams’ mastermind Ken Sorceron said, “A Void Within Existence isn’t just a title, it’s a feeling I couldn’t shake while writing. There’s a loneliness threaded through these songs that came from somewhere deeper than I expected. The world outside was falling apart, and in a way, so was the one inside.”

So you kinda know what you’re in for here — draw the blinds and get comfortable, because things are about to get really depressing.

Abigail Williams wastes no time in letting you know that A Void Within Existence is a pit of bleakness and despair. “Life Disconnected” is all churning dissonance and marching misery in the first two largely instrumental minutes. Once that wears you down, the actual song comes in with a huge, swung death metal riff that turns the swirling vortex of woe into this kinda consistent whirlpool. Consistency is nice, but in this instance, it’s pretty threatening.

The song almost plays like two movements — “Life” as a feverish, chaotic scramble, and “Disconnected” as the moment of decision where the chaos is exchanged for a colder, crueler kind of clarity. Whether intentional or not, the structure feels symbolic. Disconnection as a form of grim stability is still stability.

“Void Within” keeps the pressure high with relentless double bass that barely lets up, eventually spiraling into a total collapse around the three-minute mark. A string section glides in to smooth the descent, and the track fades into a cold haze of synths and ringing, distorted chords. So far, Abigail Williams is doing an excellent job sustaining the album’s bleak, contemplative atmosphere and concept.

“Nonexistence” wisely shifts gears, slowing things down after two very stormy and pretty fast tracks. There’s more space here, more room to breathe, with clean guitars and a restrained tempo. But it’s no less heavy — just emotionally rather than tonally.

“Nonexistence” ends with a sprawling, dissonant ambience section, which seems to be a recurring motif across A Void Within Existence. It’s a clever storytelling device — a moment of collapse and painful introspection that mirrors the album’s existential themes. Each song seems to conclude by peeling away what little structure remains and exposing the raw nerves, which in this case is the dissonant ambience section.

“Still Nights” snaps back with a more straightforward assault as it presents driving, aggressive metal anchored by shouted, clean vocals in the chorus. It’s a striking contrast from what came before it — especially given the absence of any miserable ambient musings — and the chanting helps ground the chaos. It gives the track almost this ritualistic edge that binds it all together.

I’m fairly certain “Talk to Your Sleep” marks the first time Abigail Williams has ever used an 8-string guitar — or at least something tuned drastically lower than their normal fare. And that low tuning or 8-string or whatever totally suits the song. “Talk to Your Sleep” was the moment I realized A Void Within Existence isn’t just about bleakness — it’s almost about hypnosis.

Unlike earlier tracks that batter and spiral, this one kind of lulls you into a false sense of security. Structurally and harmonically, it doesn’t shift much over its nearly eight-minute runtime, but instead it settles into this trance-like repetition, slowly wrapping you in its introspective fog.

It feels like a turning point where the album moves from the frantic questioning of life’s worth into the slow, heavy resignation of depression. Earlier songs confront the void; this one just sinks right into it.

“Embrace the Chasm” took me a few listens to really get, but once it reveals itself, you really can’t unsee it. This track acts as a convergence point for everything A Void Within Existence has explored up to this moment. The relentless black metal blasts, the brooding mid-tempo grooves, the memorable mournful guitar leads, the ambient soundscapes — it’s all here, carefully woven into a single cohesive moment.

There’s a distinctly nocturnal quality to this track, like wandering through a fog-drenched landscape unsure of where the edges are or if there’s even a way out. What really sets this track apart are the lead piano melodies that surface and fade throughout its entire runtime. They don’t dominate the mix, but they definitely haunt it. Their placement feels intentional, like faint memories bubbling up through the mental fog. They add this kind of somber elegance, punctuating the surrounding bleakness without offering much in the way of comfort.

If the earlier tracks on this album grappled with existence, “Embrace the Chasm” accepts the void completely, surrendering to it with this kind of grim reverence. “Embrace the Chasm” is like a send-off — not just from life, but from everything that tethered the album to the human condition.

In that sense, it perfectly sets the stage for the finale that is not only climactic, but totally transformative. This is where the album crosses over from the physicality of life into whatever comes next.

“No Less Than Death” closes the album on a deeply somber, emotionally charged note — one that leans more heavily on clean vocals than any track before it. It’s a ten-minute journey that feels less like a song and more like a final passage into whatever comes after life.

The song builds gradually, carefully pacing its own movement toward heavier territory without ever tipping into total chaos. Even at its most intense, it retains a sense of control, almost like someone calmly narrating their own final disappearance.

As the track winds down in its final minutes, it doesn’t explode or collapse — it just fades slowly and completely into a black silence. It’s a little hard not to get emotional while listening to this one.

A Void Within Existence demands patience. This isn’t the kind of record that levels you like The Accuser or Walk Beyond the Dark. It’s heavy, but not in that blunt-force way — its weight is emotional, it’s creeping, and it’s very introspective. It doesn’t explode so much as it does seeps in and slowly wraps itself around you until you’re fully immersed in its bleak atmospheres.

It’s also yet another stylistic pivot in the Abigail Williams discography, which has certainly seen no shortage of reinvention. That said, the band’s orbit around various extreme subgenres has noticeably tightened since Becoming in 2012. There’s more focus here — even if the approach has shifted, the identity still feels intact. You’ll need to keep an open mind with this one, but long-time fans should totally recognize the spirit behind the evolution.

Ultimately, A Void Within Existence is a solid 8 out of 10 for me. It’s a meticulously written and thoughtfully executed album. The repetition never feels dull — Sorceron and company have an ear for phrasing and atmosphere that allows even the longer tracks to remain compelling.

They know which melodies bear repeating a whole lot, and it really works on this album. I mean, yeah, sure, a song like “Embrace the Chasm” might overstay its welcome by just a hair, but there’s nothing on this album that ever feels careless or underdeveloped or egregious.

The production strikes a careful balance between murky heaviness and instrumental clarity, the vocals are varied and emotionally charged, and ultimately, Abigail Williams continues to evolve without losing themselves.

This record may not crush you, but it will definitely haunt you.