Greyson Zane’s New Song - Hellbent.
by Victoria Wright | April 8th, 2025
From the first thud of the drums to the final rasp of his vocals, Zane drags you headfirst into a chaotic descent—into a mind teetering on the edge. It’s death, it’s darkness, it’s a voice in his head that feels like it might rip him apart. And it’s relentless.
From the very first moment, the intro grabs you and doesn’t let go. It creeps in—long, slow, and haunting, like something waiting just out of sight. The drums begin as a faint pulse, steady but distant, building tension with every beat, like a fuse slowly burning its way to the blast. Guitars drift in around the edges—hazy and almost spectral. And then Zane’s voice enters. It’s barely there at first—fragile, unsteady, more breath than sound. It feels like a confession spoken into the dark, like he’s not even sure anyone out there can hear him. But that vulnerability doesn’t stick around for long.
Because not even a minute in, everything detonates. The drums erupt in a frenzy—fast, wild, and unforgiving. They don’t just carry the track; they own it. The guitars slam in heavy and distorted, grinding like gears in a war machine. And Zane’s voice? It goes from a whisper to a full-blown scream, pure anguish torn straight from the chest. The shift is sharp, even violent—but that’s the whole point. “Hellbent” isn’t here to comfort. It wants you rattled.
Lyrically, it’s all about death—but not the peaceful kind. This is death with teeth. Zane conjures up a presence—a force, maybe Hell itself—that’s hunting him down. He keeps referring to “the voice,” and it’s not some poetic metaphor. It’s aggressive. It demands attention. It claws at him, echoing through every quiet moment like a second pulse.
“I hear it in the silence / it calls me like a storm,” he sings early on, right before the first instrumental break. And that line nails the heart of this song: silence isn’t a refuge anymore—it’s where the darkness shouts the loudest.
What makes this track hit so hard is how personal it feels. This doesn’t come across like fiction or some horror fantasy. It feels real. The fear, the spiraling, the fight. Zane’s lyrics aren’t polished or pristine, and that roughness makes them land harder. Some lines are fragmented, some are shouted more than sung—but it all serves the song. It’s messy. It’s honest. And it mirrors the feeling of losing control.
The music itself mirrors that chaos. The tempo is always shifting. One moment it’s a sprint—drums firing like automatic weapons, guitars wailing, vocals unhinged. Then it all pulls back. The storm calms for a breath. But that breath isn’t relief—it’s the eye of the hurricane. You know the next hit is coming, and it’s coming harder. Each return to the heaviness feels more desperate, like Zane is being pulled deeper and deeper under.
The real MVP here? The drums. Hands down. They’re insane, both technically and emotionally. Every beat feels like it’s pushing the story forward, dragging it toward some dark inevitable end. It’s not just rhythm—it’s life itself, clawing to hold on. And in a song about death, that’s no accident. The drums are the last line of resistance.
One of the most chilling parts of the song happens in the middle. Everything falls away. Guitars go silent. The drums fade to a quiet pulse. And then Zane whispers, barely audible: “It’s got my name in its mouth.” No screaming. No theatrics. Just resignation. Like he knows—it’s already over. The slow, layer-by-layer buildup that follows is genius. It’s like watching someone claw their way out of a grave only to get pulled right back in.
The production? Raw but clean. The mix has a deliberate grit, especially on Zane’s vocals. It feels like he’s screaming through shattered glass—sharp, urgent, dangerous. The guitar tone is thick and dirty but never overwhelms. And the transitions between chaos and calm are seamless. For all its fury, the track is surprisingly precise. Every section lands exactly where it should.
But beyond the technical stuff, what makes “Hellbent” unforgettable is its emotional weight. Sure, it’s aggressive, loud, and built to shred your nerves. But underneath that, it’s about fear. About knowing something’s coming for you, and no matter how fast you run, you can’t shake it. Zane never says exactly what “the voice” is. It could be death, mental illness, guilt, hell itself. That ambiguity is what makes it powerful. It gives listeners space to pour their own fears into it.
By the final chorus, Zane’s not fighting anymore. He’s screaming, but it’s not resistance exactly, it’s surrender. The drums crash like thunder, the guitars drown him out, and then—nothing. Everything cuts. Just silence. No fade. No resolution. Like the lights just went out. Like the door slammed shut. It’s a gutsy way to end a song. But it’s perfect. There’s no catharsis here. No neat conclusion. Just that cold, hard stop that leaves you sitting in the dark. With “Hellbent,” Greyson Zane doesn’t just prove he can write a heavy track, he shows he can tell a story, craft an experience, and tear open something inside his listeners. It’s raw, it’s real, and it’s unforgettable.
If you’re into bands like Slipknot, Bring Me The Horizon, or early Avenged Sevenfold, you’ll find something familiar here—but also something new. Zane knows how to use chaos, and he wields it like a blade.This song doesn’t just play, it haunts. Not because it’s catchy, but because it speaks to something primal. That shadow we don’t always know how to name.
Greyson Zane found the words. And he screamed them out until we couldn’t ignore him.
