Greta Van Fleet
– Album
Greta Van Fleet’s Starcatcher doesn’t waste time pretending they’re something they’re not. It’s another dive into their retro-fueled, bombastic riff parade—a love letter to the ’70s with plenty of pageantry, glitter, and thunder. But this time, the band seems less interested in defending their sound and more focused on refining it. They’re still orbiting the cosmic fire of Zeppelin, sure, but the distance has shifted. They’re finding their own gravitational pull.
There’s a looser, rawer quality here than on The Battle at Garden’s Gate. The production strips things down a touch, giving the drums more bite, the guitars more air to snake around, and Josh Kiszka’s vocals more room to howl. He still belts like he’s trying to shake the walls of Valhalla, but there’s nuance now—a few cracks in the armor, some restraint, even some warmth. They sound less like kids on a stage and more like a band growing into their skin.
Where previous albums reached for grandeur, Starcatcher aims for myth. Lyrically, it’s all celestial wanderers, ancient echoes, and messianic figures—which is to say, par for their course. But it works. The imagery may lean theatrical, but it’s delivered with enough sincerity to avoid feeling like cosplay. There’s a hunger in these songs, a sense of wanting to connect to something bigger, even if they have to build the cosmos themselves, one riff at a time.
Choice Tracks
Fate of the Faithful
An opener that sounds like it was carved from a mountain of amplifier dust and old vinyl. The galloping rhythm and gospel-tinged guitar work give it a ceremonial weight, as if you’re being ushered into a temple of tone. It’s heavy, but not lumbering—there’s motion, there’s breath. Josh sings like a prophet on fire, which is just about what you’d want to hear at this point.
Sacred the Thread
This one swaggers with purpose. The groove is undeniable, rooted in blues but spun with a mystical sheen. It’s the sound of a band confident enough to have fun with their influences. The lyrics flirt with psychedelia, but it’s the rhythm section that steals the show—tight, punchy, and utterly alive.
Meeting the Master
One of the most ambitious tracks on the album. It starts with a hushed reverence, gradually swelling into a dramatic, almost operatic finale. Josh walks a tightrope between preacher and madman, while the band builds a cathedral behind him brick by sonic brick. It’s not subtle, but it doesn’t have to be—this is Greta Van Fleet’s gospel.
The Falling Sky
An urgent, muscular rocker that throws down early and doesn’t look back. The drums are feral, the guitars burn bright, and the vocals chase them like a wildfire. There’s a punkish energy lurking underneath, giving it the kind of edge the band doesn’t always reach for—but should.
Starcatcher might not convert the skeptics, but it doesn’t need to. It captures a band doubling down on what they do best—creating loud, theatrical, oddly sincere rock music in an age allergic to sincerity. It’s thunderous, it’s starry-eyed, and it doesn’t apologize. In Greta Van Fleet’s sky, the stars aren’t just catching—they’re colliding.