Out of Laurens, South Carolina, Ghost Creek traffic in the slowest and most suffocating end of funeral doom — dirges that move like sediment through still water, heavy with grief and geological patience. Founded in 2019, their music invites total surrender to the weight.

Los Angeles's Ghost Hour blend death metal aggression with the suffocating weight of doom, crafting music that feels like dusk settling permanently over the city. Active since 2015, their death/doom churns with a cinematic, West Coast density.

Jersey City's Ghost Orgy have been stoking the embers of doom and gothic metal since their formation — dense, sepulchral riffs draped in dark romanticism, the kind of music that fills cavernous spaces with equal parts dread and beauty.

Towering Stoner / Doom Metal from Houston.

Denver's Ghost Spawn conjure death/doom with a high-altitude coldness, their music moving at the pace of tectonic plates and hitting just as hard. Active since 2019, they are among Colorado's more reliably crushing underground acts.

Out of Bellevue, Nebraska, Ghost Tower have been fusing doom's crushing weight with heavy and thrash metal's forward momentum since 2016 — looming, powerful, and built to last, like the water towers that dot the Great Plains horizon.

From Santa Rosa, California's wine country and wildfire smoke, Ghost Witch have been casting heavy doom spells since 2016 — slow, hex-laden riffs that linger like smoke on still air and draw from the occult undercurrent running through California's heavy scene.

Hailing from Kirksville, Missouri, GhostBox are a doom metal act whose name evokes both paranormal communication devices and the sonic isolation their music inhabits — slow, heavy, and utterly remote, born in a small Midwestern college town and pointed inward.

San Diego's Ghoulgotha have been tunneling through the earth's dark layers with death/doom metal since 2015, their cavernous sound drawing on the city's deep underground tradition to produce something ancient, doomed, and fully subterranean.

Sacramento's Giant Squid have spent over two decades crafting some of the most literary and emotionally complex music at the intersection of doom, post-metal, and progressive rock. Their ocean-deep arrangements unfold like dark novels in sound.

Out of Orono, Maine, GiantGiant layer stoner heaviness beneath progressive arrangements and doom-paced tempos, creating music that feels simultaneously earthbound and labyrinthine. The double name signals the doubled-down ambition behind every riff.

Portland, Oregon's Giantrider deal in the traditional craft of doom metal — slow tempos, massive guitar tone, and a suffocating atmosphere built for patience. Their name says it all: they ride riffs so large they swallow you whole.

Portland's Gidrah traffic in the filthiest and most suffocating end of sludge and doom, building walls of corrosive tone that move with the deliberate menace of something enormous and ancient. Their sound is the Pacific Northwest rain rendered in distortion.

Named after the visionary Swiss artist, Columbus, Georgia's Giger pursue a similarly biomechanical aesthetic through sludge and doom metal — music that feels organic and industrial at the same time. Their riffs carry the weight of rusted machinery dragged through tar.

Toms River's Giggler pull off an unlikely combination: fusing the grandiosity of power metal with the slow, oppressive crawl of doom. The result is something operatic and crushing in equal measure, a strange and compelling beast from the New Jersey underground.