Ryan Murray | Co-Owner | Chief Editor | Contributor | Photographer
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There are albums that mark survival, and then there are albums that mark ascension. Alienation is not simply Three Days Grace surviving nearly three decades into their career — it’s them proving, once and for all, that the fire never went out. After years of tension, reinvention, and the kind of band history most groups wouldn’t walk away from intact, Adam Gontier’s return feels less like a reunion and more like a rebirth. And with it, Three Days Grace have unleashed the sharpest, heaviest, and most unapologetically anthemic record of their lives.
If One-X was the band’s primal scream, Alienation is the thunderous echo that answers it nearly twenty years later. The difference? This time, they’re not just clawing their way out of the dark — they’re burning it down behind them. The opening track, Dominate, makes sure there’s no mistaking the intention. “Here we fu&*!*g go!” the band snarls, and it’s not just a lyric. It’s a declaration of war. What follows is a stadium-ready anthem, soaring with hooks and riffs designed to make tens of thousands of voices erupt in unison. From the first strike, Alienation establishes itself as a record that doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t apologize, and doesn’t flinch.
But perhaps the most striking thing about Alienation isn’t Gontier’s return alone, it’s how seamlessly he and Matt Walst weave into one another. This is not a band handing the mic back; this is a band discovering what it means to have two frontmen with very different weapons at their disposal. Gontier’s grit and anguish meet Walst’s melodic edge and dynamic presence, and the result is a collision that feels bigger than the sum of its parts. On Don’t Wanna Go Home Tonight, a synth-driven ballad with aching emotional gravity, their voices intertwine so naturally it begs the question: why did it take so long for this to happen? Walst doesn’t vanish in Gontier’s shadow, he expands it, coloring the spaces between the lines with texture and range. The effect is electric, a reminder that reinvention can sometimes mean going full circle and discovering something entirely new at the center.
That duality defines the entire record. On one hand, Alienation is the heaviest Three Days Grace have sounded in years. Tracks like MAYDAY and Deathwish channel the teeth-gritting ferocity of the One-X era, carried by Neil Sanderson’s punishing percussion and Barry Stock’s guitars that sound equal parts blade and wrecking ball. There’s rage in these songs, but it’s not adolescent rage, rather it’s the scarred, sharpened fury of men who’ve lived through it and come out swinging. And yet, in the same breath, the band pushes into fresh sonic terrain. Apologies flirts with a pop/R&B verse structure, layering irresistible hooks over a groove that feels more experimental than anything in their catalogue. It’s a gamble, but it pays off — the kind of track that crawls into your brain and refuses to leave. Far from feeling like an outlier, it proves that the band can balance evolution with identity without losing their center.
That center, of course, is articulated best in the title track. Alienation doesn’t just lend its name to the record, it defines it. “We’re all outsiders, fallen fighters, no one knows we’re making an alienation!” the chorus declares, a unifying anthem for every misfit who ever found a home in Three Days Grace’s music. It’s more than a rallying cry; it’s an acceptance. For a band that’s spent nearly three decades writing about the fractures of the human spirit, Alienation is the moment where those fractures become architecture, a jagged cathedral where brokenness becomes community. This song will live in arenas, fists raised, voices raw, reminding everyone why this band still matters, maybe more now than ever.
Still, the band doesn’t build this temple on heaviness alone. Kill Me Fast opens with acoustic textures that bleed into one of the album’s most radio-ready choruses, a track that reminds us Three Days Grace have always been masters of accessibility without cheapening their emotional heft. In Waves surges in with crashing intensity, its riffs rolling like a tide that drags the listener under before spitting them out gasping. And then comes Never Ordinary, a track that feels like the emotional heartbeat of the record — equal parts resilience and confession. Its chorus doesn’t shout for attention, it lingers, reminding us that sometimes the loudest statement is the one whispered with conviction. It’s the kind of song that proves why this band’s music has always connected so deeply: they’re not writing for perfection, they’re writing for survival. From there, In Cold Blood pushes even further, its crushing heaviness colliding with unexpected acoustic rhythms, a juxtaposition that turns what could have been straightforward aggression into one of the album’s most layered standouts. And when Power stomps in with infectious riffs and headbang-ready grooves, it feels less like filler and more like a band flexing muscle they didn’t even realize they had.
What makes all of this hit so hard is not just the songs themselves, but the precision of the performances. Brad Walst’s bass rumbles with a confidence that anchors even the most experimental moments, while Neil Sanderson, always a quiet MVP, drives the entire record forward with a drummer’s instinct for both weight and space. Barry Stock, meanwhile, cements himself once again as one of rock’s most underrated guitarists. His riffs don’t just decorate these songs; they define their architecture, shaping peaks and valleys with a sense of drama that feels cinematic in scale. Together, this lineup doesn’t sound like a band patching itself together after years of change. It sounds like a band finally unlocking its full potential.
And then there’s the closer. Another Relapse is not just a final track, it’s a coronation. Heavy, sprawling, and built on a chorus designed to echo long after the last note fades, it embodies everything the record has been building toward. There’s an intensity here —a breakdown that hits like a detonation, a chorus that begs to be screamed until lungs give out — that doesn’t feel like a goodbye, but like a new beginning. Few bands manage to end an album with this much force, fewer still nearly thirty years into their career. But Three Days Grace do it with such confidence that it feels less like a surprise and more like destiny.
Alienation isn’t a nostalgia act, not a cash grab, not even a safe reunion. It’s a resurrection. It’s a reminder that legacy is not something you inherit, but it’s something you fight for, album after album, stage after stage, year after year. In 2025, Three Days Grace stand not as a band trying to reclaim their former glory, but as one that has finally reconciled its past and present, and in doing so, reached its peak.
Nearly three decades after they first roared onto the scene, they’ve delivered an album that rivals their very best, and in many ways, surpasses it. Alienation is the sound of a band that refuses to age quietly, that refuses to surrender to the weight of time. It’s the sound of scars weaponized, of fractures forged into steel, of voices once separated now raised together in unrelenting defiance.
There are plenty of bands who fade into nostalgia tours after this long. Three Days Grace just made the best album of their career. And they’re daring the world to try and ignore it.
Verdict: 4.5/5.0
Ethereal Metal 
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