There’s a moment in every long-standing band’s career when the audience collectively holds its breath. Halford quitting Judas Priest. Metallica cutting their hair. Nightwish writing Tarja a letter to let her know she’s out.
When Primal Fear co-founder Mat Sinner flatlined in a hospital bed, his fate suspended between silence and a second chance, few fans could have imagined that his next move would be not just to recover, but to rebuild.
“Why should I make music with someone who doesn’t want to make music with me,” questions Sinner in our interview, reflecting on the bitter lineup shakeup that gutted Primal Fear in late 2024. After decades of loyalty and shared stages, one scathing comment from a guitarist cracked the facade, triggering an exodus that would leave wounds as deep as his physical ones. Friends turned foes, projects stolen, ambition questioned. It reads like the textbook end of a band’s story.
Instead, it was the prelude.
Co-founders Mat Sinner and Ralf Scheepers didn’t just put out another album, they threw down the gauntlet and dared the world to doubt them. And they did it without half the people they used to call family. “It’s a sad story,” Sinner told us with a sour smile, “but that’s life.” It’s the kind of thing you say after watching a house burn, knowing you lit the match for a reason.
Sonically, Domination opens with a swagger that feels like a throwback and a statement all at once. “The Hunter,” “Destroyer,” and “Far Away” punch their way in with a pace that doesn’t just hint at power metal, it practically revives its golden age, with a modern mix that avoids the trap of clinical overproduction. The guitars cut like diamond-tipped blades, the drums gallop like they’re chasing something divine, and everything breathes—not sanitized, but sharpened.

Then comes “I Am the Primal Fear”, and everything else starts to make sense. The arrangement is deceptively simple: thunderous drums, riffs that stomp more than sprint, and a chorus that feels inevitable the moment it hits. It’s the kind of song that feels like it always existed, just waiting for the right band in the right headspace to pull it out of the ether.
Not everything carries the same weight, though. At 13 tracks deep, Domination does flirt with bloat. Songs like “Tears of Fire” and “Crossfire” don’t stumble so much as they fade into the background, solid, sure, but when flanked by titans, they feel like intermissions. That said, the band is savvy enough to load the back half with a second wind.
One of the album’s most surprising turns comes with “Hallucinations,” a piano-and-guitar instrumental that shifts the gears without killing the drive. It’s the perfect overture to “Eden,” a seven-minute leviathan of a track that manages to feel half its length. The duet with Melissa Bonny is devastating and triumphant in equal measure, a swirling mix of symphonic drama and metallic crunch. There’s an apocalyptic beauty to it, less “grandiose,” more like the soundtrack to the last sunrise before everything changes.
“Scream” injects some modernity into the chaos, with slick riffing and a chorus that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Five Finger Death Punch record, yet still feels unmistakably like Primal Fear. It’s followed by “March Boy March,” which starts with dwarven-style industrial chanting (yes, really) before launching headfirst into what can only be described as a love letter to “Painkiller”.
And just when you think the fire’s out, they drop “A Tune I Won’t Forget,” a violin-laced, slow-burning finale that strips away the bravado and lets Ralf Scheepers do something we don’t hear enough: sing deep. His lower register is haunting here, evoking something close to Disturbed’s take on The Sound of Silence. It’s a quiet closer for a loud album, and it lingers.
This is an album that doesn’t just explore different textures, it tests its own limits, peering into corners Primal Fear don’t always shine a light on. And even when it falters slightly, the stronger moments hit hard enough to carry the whole.
Look, I’ve been in and out with these guys over the years. Some albums stuck with me like tattoos; others faded like tour dates on an old shirt. But even at their most forgettable, Primal Fear never dipped below a baseline of damn solid. “Domination” doesn’t aim for solid. It swings for the fences.
This is a record born of bitterness, blood, and backbone. It’s a scar turned into a sigil. No gimmicks. Just a band that refused to roll over and instead came back louder, leaner, and with zero patience for bullshit.
And whether you’re a diehard or a lapsed listener, you’re going to want to hear this part of the story.