“Trouble” is the kind of song you’d be proud blowing the speakers out of that ‘69 Nova (or that 2024 Prius…) – either way, this one is made to be jammed LOUD. This brand new CROBOT track off of their new record Supermoon features the fuzzed-out, wooly intro riff from guitarist Chris Bishop, Brandon Yeagley’s moon-beaming vocal screams, and the funkified and unified rhythmic brotherhood of Nico and Willie Jansen on drums and bass. “Trouble” stares danger right in the face and asks it to stay a little while longer, just to see what happens.
Rock heavyweights CROBOT recently released their highly anticipated new album, Supermoon, arriving today which has received significant media coverage. Known for their thunderous riffs, infectious hooks, and larger than life swagger, the band returns with a record that is both a natural evolution and a bold expansion of their sonic identity.
With Supermoon, CROBOT tap into something bigger, something louder, dirtier, and undeniably cosmic. The album channels the band’s raw energy into a collection of tracks that blend crushing hard rock, fuzzed out grooves, and psychedelic textures into an experience that feels as expansive as it is explosive.
Lyrically and sonically, the album reflects a band fully locked in confident, creative, and ready to take listeners on a ride that’s as electrifying as it is immersive. Whether it’s the swaggering, riff driven stompers or the more expansive, mood driven moments, Supermoon proves CROBOT are operating at full power.
They’ve burned down the temple just to see what would crawl out of the ashes.
CROBOT have always been the house band for the apocalypse — all sweat-stained riffs, swampy swagger, and enough grease under their fingernails to make the saints choke — but this time, the inferno’s aimed inward.
Frontman Brandon Yeagley sounds like he’s howling through a séance, summoning every demon he’s ever danced with and daring them to stay for the encore. Beside him, Christopher Bishop peels off guitar lines that swing somewhere between scripture and sin, his tone dirtier than a bar mat in a Texas roadhouse. The low end rumbles under the command of Willie Jansen, whose bass hits like a sermon in a steel mill, while his brother Nico Jansen drives the kit like a preacher possessed — a rhythm section born to baptize you in groove.
The new record was tracked between the hallowed boards of Willie Nelson’s Pedernales Studio and the Machine Shop in Dripping Springs, then mixed and mastered by Alberto de Icaza, who captured every ounce of holy delirium. But it wasn’t just a recording — it was a ritual. There were smoke cleansings, moon rites, gemstones humming on console tops, meditations between takes, and lyrics treated like spells. Every session felt like a sweat-lodged dream in which the band tried to drown their egos and come back clean.
Lyrically and philosophically, it’s a fever dream stitched from Buddhism, Taoism, Christianity, and Jung, with pages torn from Siddhartha, Reality Transurfing, Black Elk Speaks, and Castaneda’s Don Juan scattered on the studio floor. The result is a raw-nerve meditation on ego death, rebirth, and the dirt-under-your-nails work of becoming a whole human again — a trip through shadow and light, anchored in the red pulse of the root chakra but aiming for something far higher.
If the last few years found CROBOT flirting with heavier metal machinery, this era drags the beast back to the groove pit — to the swamp funk and snarling riffs that made their early believers fall in line. It’s the sound of four weirdos rediscovering the primordial ooze beneath their boots and realizing that enlightenment still needs distortion.
CROBOT have always preached the gospel of Dirty. Groove. Rock. Now they’re living it, leaner, meaner, and wired straight into the source.