Alice in Chains
– The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here
By the time The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here dropped in 2013, Alice in Chains had long since proven they weren’t just a grunge-era relic crawling out of the ’90s mud. This album doesn’t ask for your approval—it drags you down, slowly, deliberately, into its own mire of despair, doubt, and decaying faith. It’s not here to impress. It’s here to haunt. The riffs are thick and slow, the harmonies are still uncanny, and the tone? Equal parts venom and resignation.
Best of…
William DuVall and Jerry Cantrell carve their voices together like rusted gears grinding through regret. The dual vocals—always the band’s strange secret weapon—don’t soothe here. They seethe. The songs move with the weight of guilt. Nothing about this record feels polished or pretty. It trudges instead of sprints, stews instead of screams. But that’s the point. It’s Alice in Chains staring down the abyss, not flinching, and sounding better for it.
The title track alone should tip you off: this is a band with its middle finger aimed squarely at hypocrisy. It’s dark, yes, but smart. Mean, but calculated. The grooves are thick, the atmosphere thick enough to choke on, and the vibe pure dread with a smirk. It’s an album that demands patience. And maybe a stiff drink.
Choice Tracks
Stone
A perfect slug of sludge rock. That riff crawls, lurches, and then coils around your brain like a snake that’s learned jazz. Cantrell’s guitar tone is a wrecking ball in slow motion. It’s the sound of something heavy collapsing inward, over and over.
Voices
One of the more melodic cuts on the album, but don’t mistake that for lightness. “Voices” sounds like a dream just before it turns into a nightmare. DuVall shines here, and the chorus hooks deep, subtle as a knife under the ribs.
The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here
Cynicism has rarely sounded so hypnotic. A slow burner that builds and drips with sarcasm, frustration, and a kind of exhausted clarity. It’s a funeral dirge for blind belief and a highlight for how tight this version of Alice in Chains really is.
Phantom Limb
It’s menacing. It pulses with quiet rage. The track feels like it’s dragging something dead behind it—then halfway through, it erupts into one of the nastiest grooves the band’s ever laid down. Raw, grimy, and unrepentantly bleak.
The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here isn’t built for easy digestion. It’s brooding, slow-moving, and unshakably bitter. But buried in all that grime is a band unafraid to grow old the hard way, to carry their ghosts like medals. If you’re looking for easy catharsis, this won’t deliver. But if you want to sit with the ache a little while longer, Alice in Chains still knows exactly how to feed it.