Soulfly albums can be a bit of a crapshoot these days. They’re never that bad, but there is a gulf of difference in quality between surprising surges in sound like Enslaved (2012) or career highlights like Ritual (2018), and middling albums like Savages (2013), Archangel (2015) or previous offering Totem (2022). So it is that I went into thirteenth album Chama without much expectation but also ready to be surprised, and have come away somewhat shocked to report that this is once again one of the best Soulfly albums of their modern incarnation.
Likely in light of the recent Nailbomb reunion—or perhaps it's even the inspiration behind it—but there is a distinctly industrial bent to Chama that instantly makes itself known on opening of “Storm the Gates”. The track's main riff, and many others on the album, is a rhythmic, grinding affair that serves a backdrop for pummeling percussion and serial sloganeering, that immediately elevates it above the band's less remarkable outings, like Totem or Omen (2008). These oppressive industrial elements propel the album's aggressive earlier half before slowing down to invoke nightmarish, totalitarian scenes on later cuts like "Favela / Dystopia" and "Always Was, Always Will Be...", all the while remaining far more focused than Cavalera Conspiracy's more chaotic return to industrialism on Pandemonium (2014). Honestly, if they striped back some of the tribal elements, this could easily have been a new Nailbomb album, and may have been even better for it.
As with most Cavalera conspiracies, Soulfly has become an increasingly family affair, with Chama primarily being a collaboration between max and his eldest son Zyon, who has been working with the band since Enslaved and since become the band's only other official member—here handling the album's percussion and production, alongside a returning Arthur Rizk. Max's other son Igor plays bass, and the album also features numerous and prominent guest spots from Nails frontman Todd Jones on hardcore rager "Nihilist" (which maybe actually features that TWIABP riff?), Arch Enemy guitarist Michael Amott on the punishing "Ghenna" and Fear Factory's Dino Cazares who allegedly appears on "No Pain = No Power", although the tracks uncharacteristically melodic vocals sound more like the debrided Burton C. Bell (perhaps they come from Ben Cook from No Warning and Gabe Franco of Unto Others, who also apparently make appearances, although I'm not sure where.) Whatever the concoction, Chama maintains a consistent and intoxicating balance between the added industrial groove and the band’s trademark tribalisms.
...and therein lies the snag. "Tribalism" has always been a big part of Soulfly's sound and image, and between working with Native Brazillian communities on Roots (1996) and other collaborations throughout the years, it's undeniable that Max has done far more than any other metal musician to bring attention to and include these Indigenous voices. Chama continues this tradition, telling the story of "a boy from the dingy favelas of Brazil, who in search of a higher power, finds himself amongst the tribes of the Amazon, who show him the way of the jungle’s souls". As far as I can tell though, none of the musicians involved in the album are of overtly Indigenous Brazilian heritage. For the entirety of Soulfly's existence, Max has resided in Arizona—where his children (who are otherwise of Russian heritage) were also born—and whose only Indigenous ties appear to be a "very exotic"-looking great-grandmother "from the rainforest", that his mother told him about. The only other contributor to the album appears to be Texas-born lead guitarist Mike DeLeon, who may have Native heritage, but—in addition to playing with absent Cavalera son* Richie in Incite—has also served stints in *M.O.D. and Phil Anselmo's Illegals, which isn't the most ringing endorsement.
Chama thereby continues a trend among recent Soulfly albums of leaning even further into openly Indigenous imagery, even as its musicians themselves move increasingly away from it. I have no doubt that Max and family are far more knowledgeable about and historically involved with these cultures than most, but it also feels uncomfortably appropriative to put song titles and subjects like "Indigenous Inquisition" or anti-colonial political slogans like "Always Was, Always Will Be" into this non-Native context—especially on an album whose cover bears a "scene of a [North American] Navajo ceremonial dancer", but whose title (Portuguese for "flame") comes from a colonial language. Again, I'm sure the Cavaleras' hearts are in the right place, and I believe they have a genuine respect and historical involvement with the cultures they are invoking, but between this and Totem—which featured tracks called "Ancestors", "Totem" and "Spirit Animal"—it seems like they are increasingly adopting their imagery and ideas for themselves, rather than paying respects from afar.
It's a shame that the album raises these reservations so strongly, because otherwise Chama is an absolute triumph. It's not quite as good as Ritual or other truly remarkable albums like Primitive (2000), Prophecy (2004) or Dark Ages (2005), but it sits comfortably in the tier below, alongside other outstanding achievements, like Enslaved, Conquer (2008) and 1998's self-titled debut. Max will always be primarily remembered for the early Sepultura albums, but it is Soulfly that constitutes his continued legacy, and—twenty-seven years and thirteen albums in—Chama is an album entirely worthy of his heritage, just maybe not others.
*I know Richie is his step-son, but the dude has a lot of kids, ok!