Portland, Oregon's Grave Monolith traffic in funeral doom metal of suffocating patience — slow processions of grief and inevitability stretched to their absolute limits. Formed in 2023, they build monuments out of silence and drone as much as sound.

Detroit's Graverape drag death-doom through the city's post-industrial wreckage, their slow-motion riffing carrying the weight of something truly decayed. Since 2020 they've cultivated a deliberately repellent sound that suits Motor City's abrasive character.

Originally formed in 2002 with ties to Phoenix, Arizona, Graves at Sea relocated to Portland, Oregon and built a slow-burning reputation across splits and EPs released through Southern Lord and 20 Buck Spin before a 2008 breakup and subsequent 2012 reunion. Their long-awaited debut full-length The Curse That Is finally arrived in 2016 on Relapse Records, a crushing hour-plus of sludge and doom metal nearly fifteen years in the making. The band drew on the Oregon and Oakland heavy underground, drawing comparisons to Eyehategod and Electric Wizard while maintaining a distinctly bleak Pacific Northwest character.

San Diego's Graveseer, formed as recently as 2025, traffic in the slow-creeping territory of sludge-doom, building visions out of distortion and dread. Their music is prophetic in its patience — each riff arriving like an omen rather than a blow.

Colossal Death / Doom Metal out of Texas.

Out of Mandeville, Louisiana, Grayskull fuse the hypnotic crawl of doom with stoner metal's fuzz-drenched warmth, conjuring something heavy and slow enough to sink into the swamp. Since 2021 they've been stacking riffs that belong in the dark.

Oklahoma City's Great American Desert channel the vast, punishing emptiness of the plains into slow, suffocating doom metal. Since 2012, their music has carried the weight of a landscape with nothing on the horizon and no reason to hurry.

Nashville's Great Unclean Ones drag doom and sludge through the gutter with deliberate, punishing force — riffs that move like slow-rolling thunder and vocals soaked in filth. Since 2019 they've made miserable music in the best possible sense.

Virginia's Green deal in the heavy, murky end of sludge metal — slow tempos, distortion thick enough to choke on, and an unshakeable sense of dread. Since 2019, they've been letting the weight accumulate rather than trying to outrun it.