Jason Crews is the owner and editor of INFRARED MAGAZINE and a Dallas–Fort Worth-based music journalist and concert photographer. Through INFRARED MAGAZINE and JASON CREWS PHOTOGRAPHY, he covers rock, metal, country, and live music with a focus on album reviews, artist features, concert coverage, and photography. His work is driven by a genuine passion for music and helping artists connect with new audiences through honest writing, strong visuals, and meaningful storytelling.
Rating: 10 / 10 Stars
DOWN is: Phil Anselmo (vocals), Pepper Keenan (guitar), Kirk Windstein (guitar), Todd Strange (bass), Jimmy Bower (drums)
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REVIEW – DOWN’s genre-defining debut Nola turns 30—and its swamp-soaked legacy still hits like a freight train through the Louisiana backwoods. Released on September 19, 1995, Nola is the moment when southern sludge met spiritual fury, a molten fusion of doom, groove, and hardcore defiance that birthed a modern classic. Three decades later, it remains a vital, bone-deep listen—equal parts aggressive, introspective, and cathartic.
Formed by heavyweights from Pantera, Corrosion of Conformity, Crowbar, and Eyehategod, DOWN captured lightning in a whiskey bottle.
From the opening riff of “Temptation’s Wings,” the album stomps forward with bluesy menace and unfiltered intensity. Anselmo’s growl bleeds authenticity, channeling pain and defiance in every line. “Lifer” follows with explosive force, its thunderous low end and driving rhythm delivering a gut punch of purpose and raw emotion. “Pillars of Eternity” brings a slower, crushing groove, proving the band can hit just as hard in half-time.
“Rehab” grinds forward like a bad memory you can’t shake, thick with bitterness and existential wear. Then comes “Hail the Leaf,” a fuzz-drenched homage to self-medication and spiritual detachment that sounds like it was born in a dimly lit room soaked in smoke and sweat.
“Underneath Everything” and “Eyes of the South” bring that signature DOWN cocktail of pummeling riffs and blues-drenched defiance, digging into emotional fallout and spiritual corrosion. “Jail” slows everything down with haunting, depressive simplicity, while “Losing All” kicks back with a sense of broken resolve that feels both raw and redemptive.
As the album enters its final stretch, “Stone the Crow” emerges as one of DOWN’s most iconic and enduring moments. With its soulful chorus, swampy rhythm, and melancholic Southern inflection, it offers a rare moment of clarity and reflection—a melodic exhale in an album full of clenched fists and existential weight. It’s a fan favorite for a reason, and it hits just as hard in 2025 as it did in 1995.
“Pray for the Locust” acts as a strange interlude—just over a minute, eerie and ominous, like a Southern Gothic prayer whispered into the void. “Swan Song” bridges into emotional closure before the final reckoning arrives with “Bury Me in Smoke.” The closer stretches past seven minutes and never lets go. A slow-burning monolith of doom and catharsis, it fades like a funeral dirge for the broken and bruised.
Lyrically, Nola deals with introspection, addiction, spiritual conflict, and southern pride. Anselmo pours his soul into each song, and the band backs him with riffs and grooves thick as swamp mud. The production by Matt Thomas and DOWN is earthy and unpolished, perfectly suited for the record’s grimy atmosphere.
As it hits the three-decade mark, Nola stands not just as one of the best albums of the ’90s but as a blueprint for what southern sludge metal should be: heavy, honest, soulful, and absolutely crushing. DOWN didn’t just release an album—they lit a fire that’s still burning.
What makes Nola so enduring is its unrelenting honesty and its ability to blur the lines between sludge, southern rock, stoner metal, and doom. It’s a record that feels lived-in, beaten, bruised—but unbroken.
For more information on DOWN, visit:
www.Down-Nola.com
www.Facebook.com/Down
www.Instagram.com/Down_Nola
www.YouTube.com/@DownNola
www.Spotify.com/Artist/Down
