It’s hard to believe it’s been nearly a decade since I stood in line at the bank, sweating through an unusually hot November day, when the kind of news you never expect dropped into my feed. Helloween are reuniting, with Michael Kiske and Kai Hansen, for a world tour. I must’ve checked the news five times before I let myself believe it was real.
And once I did, I could barely wait. That year-long countdown to the tour felt eternal at first, but in hindsight? It vanished in a flash. And when the show finally came, when I stood in that crowd, watching Andi and Michi tear through classics like “Halloween” and deep cuts like “Why” together with more joy than ego, it felt like something healed. Like this was how it was always supposed to be.
A lot has changed since then. The band found new life, packing out massive arenas and receiving glowing reviews. In 2021, they even gave us a new, self-titled album. But for all its merits, it felt, at least to me, like the band hadn’t quite unlocked the full potential of this supercharged lineup. There were standout moments like “Mass Pollution”, “Fear of the Fallen”, and especially Hansen’s 12-minute rocket ride “Skyfall,” but the album still carried the DNA of the previous decade. It was good, but it did not match the same energy I witnessed on the stage.
Fortunately, it only took a few years to get to that.
Having “Giants and Monsters,” the band’s sophomore post-reunion album blasting through my speakers, I can confidently say that this is the sound of the Pumpkins United lineup playing together. This is Helloween! Not just trading verses, but trading ideas. Pushing each other to do better. Write better. You hear it in every layered chorus, every riff that feels like a nod and a wink to an era or to a particular songwriter.
Where the last album flirted with greatness, this one dives straight in. While “Skyfall” might have been the mission statement for the new era, this album is the actual blueprint. The first real slap in the face, “A Little Is a Little Too Much,” sees Deris channeling his “Master of the Rings” swagger, with Kiske jumping in for a trade-off that feels less like “guest vocals” and more like two frontmen cracking beers mid-riff. It’s cheeky, punchy, and destined to become a live staple the same way “Best Time” carved its place. The moment this track landed, I stopped analyzing. I just listened and smiled.
You feel the synergy throughout the album in the way the songs are weaved together, sometimes trading off with theatrical flair, sometimes melting into a singular, towering voice. The same goes for the songwriting. There’s Deris swagger and Weikath gallop. Hansen’s unmistakable Judas-Priest-inspired sci-fi grandeur. Gerstner’s emotional depth and power.
Gerstner, in fact, might be the unsung MVP of this record. His songs “Universe (Gravity for Hearts)” and “Hand of God” anchor the album’s last stretch with weight and dynamism. The latter channels “The Dark Ride”-era heaviness in all the best ways, short, mean, and so addictive I found myself rewinding it a few times before it even ended, rewarding my dopamine receptors like a zero-calorie cake.
Speaking of chemistry: the interplay of vocalists across this doesn’t feel like a gimmick, and is used sporadically and to great effect. Tracks like “Giants on the Run” and “Universe (Gravity for Hearts)” don’t rely only on speed or shred to move you. They lean on mood, on emotion, on that almost telepathic trade-off between singers who, years ago, might’ve been painted as rivals. The latter is especially striking. “Universe” stretches eight minutes but feels like three. Gerstner’s songwriting brings out the band’s most expansive, symphonic instincts, bolstered by Queen-inspired bridges and an emotional throughline that lingers long after the fade-out.
Even the oddballs have their place. “This is Tokyo” may not be your go-to, but as a breather between the emotional peaks, it earns its spot. And “Under the Moonlight”? It’s what “Can Do It” wanted to be when it grew up, cheeky, disco-tinged, and smile-inducing in the most Weikathian way.
And then comes the closer, aptly titled “Majestic.” Another Hansen epic, the band’s “Stargazer” and “A Light in the Dark” rolled into one, oozing with heavy guitars and crowned by an imposing chorus featuring all three vocalists. And while it may not dethrone “Skyfall”, it earns its place as the album’s curtain call.
This isn’t just an album for fans of one lineup or era. It’s for fans of Helloween: the band, the idea, the legacy. It doesn’t run from the past nor does it try to reinvent it. It leans into it. Refines it. And in doing so, it becomes something that resonates across generations, not as nostalgia, but as something that raises the bar in the genre today.
