REVIEW: Deftones - private music

Recurring events now reappear, time has started to tear

42:30 // August 22, 2025 // Reprise Records

Deftones was started by three snot-nosed middle schoolers eons ago, and is currently closing in on forty years of existence. They’ve worn differing musical styles like gloves, and have received much deserved applause for their art that is equal parts accessible and chameleonic. While the group have made their own efforts to cultivate a fervent fanbase, their current audience explosion can be traced to the massive contributions of their burgeoning and rabid TikTok devotees. To watch Deftones’ audience balloon like this while they offered new recruits nothing but radio silence was hilarious, while simultaneously acting as reassurance for longtime fans of the band. The group felt no need to capitalize on new faces in the crowd, nor capitulate to the musical “box” that feverish praise for some of their older hits may have trapped them inside. For this reason more than any other, private music exudes pure musical confidence at every turn.

The exhibition begins with a sucker punch to the mouth. Where Ohms’ “Genesis” and Gore’s “Prayers/Triangles” opted to ease listeners in with ominous preludes, “my mind is a mountain” diverges by immediately going for the jugular as the curtain rises. private music pulls no punches about Deftones’ identity as a band, what they are capable of, and what they do better than anyone else. The subtext of the album’s rollicking opener is that audience expectations are likely set in stone, so it’s time for the boys to stand and deliver. And deliver they do: “my mind is a mountain” generated seismic readings of hype upon release, and justifiably so. Whatever amount of praise has been heaped on Abe Cunningham’s drumming in the past will never be sufficient, and nobody in the scene has ever cornered the crossroads between discipline and creativity quite like him. His galloping pulses on this song blend in hypnotic unison with Stephen Carpenter’s spacey crunch and newcomer Fred Sablan’s thunderous bass tone to showcase the band rhythmically synchronized to a stupefying degree. When this track melts into angelic harmony and a borderline space rock vibe as it closes in on the two-minute mark, it’s a reminder that Deftones remain apex predators, primarily because of how effortless the shift seems. Much was made of Chino Moreno’s vocals being eased further back into the mix when this track dropped, but viewing this section as a microcosm of private music’s greater aims ultimately allows that decision to shine. He sounds wonderful as is; while his harsh vocals make less frequent appearances on the album, his choice to spend most of its runtime creating ethereal magic is his strongest asset.

The quintet’s follow up to this opening haymaker, the slinky “locked club”, is where private music’s intent begins to clarify itself. It’s also the point where the record’s most intriguing ingredient, returning producer Nick Raskulinecz, clicks into place in the listener’s jigsaw puzzle. It’s no secret that the band’s recent social media boom has placed a unique emphasis on their early ‘10s output, namely Diamond Eyes and Koi No Yokan, both produced by Sir Nicholas Rattlesnake himself. As this creative period continually grows more beloved, “locked club” reveals itself as a top-notch revisitation of the Koi era, right on down to its juxtaposition between Carpenter’s hellacious riffing and its enamel-rotting hook. As private music sinks its teeth deeper, this walking along a melodic knife’s edge á la Koi stakes its claim over every nanometer of the album’s DNA. “ecdysis” may exist primarily to exhibit Deftones’ ever-reliable rhythm section, and certainly serves as a brilliant coming-out party for Sablan, but it stands out more due to how it remains in lockstep with the record’s bag of tricks. The way this cut astutely slithers into a gorgeous melodic coda for its second half, glued together by Frank Delgado’s mesmerizing fuzz, characterizes the masterful bait-and-switch technique that also rears its head on tunes like “i think about you all the time” and “~metal dream”. Deftones are no strangers to the volatile waltz-ballad-cum-metallic dirge, with Ohms’ “Pompeji” coming to mind as one of the most refined examples of this sound. Where “i think about you all the time” differs is in its erudition: while it does eventually explode, it knows well enough to hold back and let its dreaminess carry the listener to Valhalla. Perhaps this can be attributed to Raskolnikov’s influence, as his involvement also brought us the timeless “Sextape”, which occupies a similar space.

Then there’s “infinite source”. God damn, I love this track; it’s akin to an enlightened mix of the group’s late-’90s nu-metal leanings with the major-key suffocating guitar layering of a track like “Cherry Waves”. Its addictive instrumental breaks, identifiable via Carpenter’s scratchy lead outrunning the gaping maw of Cunningham’s drums, are a crucial component of the song’s atmosphere, but it’s the subsequent drowning wall of sound during the chorus, simultaneously bruising and healing, that stamps this one firmly into the Deftones hall of fame. Moreno’s performance is more inscrutable here than perhaps any other point on the record, but it may counterintuitively stand out as his most solid vocal contribution, due in no small part to Nighttime Rapscallion’s shrewd blending of his crooning with Carpenter’s vortex of strumming and arpeggiation.

Rockemsockemrobots' sleights of hand work wonders for a celestial jam like “infinite source”, although their shortcomings grow too impractical to ignore when the band decides to up the aggression. No song is more negatively impacted by this trend than the barnburner that is “milk of the madonna”, which is especially upsetting as it deserves a spot among this record’s pantheon of highlights based on songwriting alone. private music’s subpar and tinny master is most apparent here, with the bulk of “milk”’s destructive, distorted crunch dissipating into a mere brick wall of hissing. Similar issues plague “cXz” and “cut hands”, two compositions that already boast structural and executional problems of their own. The latter puts a commendable metric spin on the album’s modus operandi, yet somehow remains pedestrian throughout, culminating in an ineffectual breakdown that may very well be the record’s limpest moment. Its transition into “~metal dream”’s demented muzak vibe assuredly represents the album’s overall nadir, qualifying as little more than fat to be trimmed despite a strong push to get back on the rails with its engrossing B section.

If private music is a 42-minute-long run-on sentence, then “departing the body” is its supernova of an exclamation mark. Emerging from the rainbow-colored muck of “~metal dream” in a woozy stumble of electronics, this track silently stalks the listener, replete with shimmering surface tension even after the rhythm section barges in. As the arrangement progresses well past the halfway point, audiences are kept in a kind of heavenly limbo, seemingly aware that something more has to be lurking around the corner. The ensuing detonation is an absolute masterclass in subtlety. The only change the group makes here is an imperceptible ratcheting up of aggression and intensity, and it makes everything gel together flawlessly. It’s spectacular how such a simple variation in attack and syncopation can make such a lasting impression (courtesy of Cunningham’s most dazzling display of showmanship on the album), and it serves as a phenomenal conclusion to a consistently great record.

private music will host the largest audience that Deftones have assembled up to this point in their career, so it brings me joy to let new fans know that the group’s latest output is a satisfying representation of nearly everything that makes them great. It may do them well to seek out an earlier record for a more filling helping of their heavier side, even though private music’s leaner body and meeker outlook help it zig and zag around Ruggles of Red Gap’s more notable production missteps. While the odd track or two may display slight hints of fan service, the group continue to swing big as their studio catalog veers into double digit territory, and the touchpoints on this record where they continue to incorporate distinctive layers of sophistication onto their existing skillset make it a listen well worth anyone’s while. After a relatively uneventful five-year absence, it’s likely that private music will be remembered as the late career gem that it is five, ten, or even fifty-ten years from now. Ohms may have kicked off the group’s retvrn sensibilities in earnest with its reliance on Terry Date’s input and self-aware homages to previous sounds, but private music’s bolstering of the group’s legacy is even stronger, thanks to its intent and execution. Show up, kick ass, tour the world, disappear into the night. There’s nothing left to prove, and Deftones have found their freedom in this truth.

8/10.

Yo Yo, check out these highlight tracks:

-my mind is a mountain

-infinite source

-i think about you all the time

-departing the body