The last time I saw Rob De Luca we were sitting in Fast Eddys – that great Perth institution themed on an American Diner, now sadly gone – we were eating fish and chips and talking rock and roll. Conversation wandered from his years in UFO (a band I’m eternally obsessed with) to life on the road with Sebastian Bach (who he was playing with that night) and, inevitably, to the question every Spread Eagle fan had been asking for years: “So… when are we finally getting a new Spread Eagle album?”
This was back in 2017. The band had just completed a run of UK dates, Rob was still juggling duties with Sebastian Bach, and Subway To The Stars was still a couple of years away. There was optimism, but there was also uncertainty. Spread Eagle had always seemed to be one of those bands that deserved far more than fate had handed them.
They were certainly one of those bands that made an immediate impression on me. From the moment I heard that debut album I was hooked. Harder edged than many of their contemporaries, there was a dangerous New York swagger about them that set them apart from the West Coast hair metal crowd. They were gritty, uncompromising and wrote songs with genuine bite.
Fast forward to 2026 and Brutal Divine becomes Spread Eagle’s fourth studio album in twenty-five years and their second for Frontiers Music. Credit has to go to Frontiers too. Plenty of labels have overlooked Spread Eagle over the years, but Frontiers recognised what many of us have known for decades—this is a band with a unique voice that deserves to be heard.
The current line-up sees vocalist Ray West and bassist Rob De Luca continuing to drive the band, joined by drummer Rik DeLuca and guitarist Jommy Puledda, and together they’ve created what may well be the most adventurous record of their career.
The title itself tells you everything you need to know. Brutal Divine explores the painful process of stripping away old beliefs, confronting uncomfortable truths and finding clarity through adversity. That sounds heavy because it is. But rather than becoming overbearing, Spread Eagle wrap those ideas inside ten powerful hard rock songs that constantly surprise.
Album opener “Flat Earth Vultures” explodes from the speakers with frantic energy, punk attitude and a relentless groove. It’s an immediate statement of intent, proving this isn’t a band interested in nostalgia. “Street Noise” follows like a runaway subway train racing beneath New York City. Urgent, rhythmic and packed with attitude, it captures the pulse of the city while giving the record one of its catchiest moments.
“Gunflower” is one of the album’s most striking tracks. Musically it’s sharp, aggressive hard rock, but lyrically it’s something altogether more thoughtful, with Ray West almost delivering the words as spoken observations rather than conventional melodies. That approach continues on “Jail Rat”, another spiky slice of streetwise hard rock full of caustic commentary and enough attitude to remind you exactly where this band came from.
The wonderfully titled “Forbidden Local Honey” shifts the mood slightly, showing another side of the band’s songwriting without sacrificing any of the grit that runs throughout the record. “Pushed To The Limit” brings things back into more familiar hard rock territory, driven by a huge chorus, crunching riffs and one of the album’s strongest hooks.
Then comes “Ant Farm”, arguably the heaviest track on the album. It’s crushing, relentless and bridges the gap between modern frustration and classic American hard rock in spectacular fashion. “Scars In Our Eyes (City Kids)” continues that momentum with another powerful anthem that balances melody and aggression beautifully while reflecting on the scars that city life leaves behind.
One of the album’s most intriguing moments arrives with “Inside A Shrunken Head”, a track that perfectly encapsulates the band’s willingness to push beyond traditional hard rock boundaries without ever losing sight of the song itself. Finally “Makebeliever” closes the record on a reflective yet powerful note, tying together many of the album’s themes and leaving you wanting to hit play all over again.
One of the things I love most about Brutal Divine is that it constantly refuses to take the obvious route. There are moments that recall those wonderfully left-of-centre bands from the late eighties—acts like Saigon Kick or Lillian Axe—bands who never quite fitted the industry’s mould but built fiercely loyal audiences because they dared to say something different. That’s exactly what Spread Eagle continue to do here.
This isn’t simply another hard rock record. It’s a thoughtful, distinctive collection of songs that stretches the genre in unexpected directions. The riffs are still there, the hooks are still there, but beneath them lies a record with genuine narrative ambition and lyrics that challenge as often as they entertain.
In a world increasingly filled with formulaic rock records, Brutal Divine feels refreshingly fearless.
Back in that Perth café almost a decade ago, Rob was hopeful about the band’s future. Listening to Brutal Divine, I’d say that optimism was entirely justified. Thanks to Corey for teh introduction.
If Subway To The Stars promised—and at times captured—that old Spread Eagle magic, then Brutal Divine doesn’t just build on it. It delivers on every single promise.
