Columbus, Ohio's Grael began life trading in gothic doom and pivoted toward psychedelic stoner territory, tracing a natural arc from shadow to smoke. Their music carries an underlying mysticism that connects both phases of their evolution.

Longview, Washington's Grand Head fuse the slow-burn misery of doom metal with the blunt-force urgency of hardcore, and the collision sounds like a storm that won't let up. Since 2016 they've built a sound that's as heavy as it is relentless.

Dayton, Ohio's Grand Mammoth live up to their prehistoric name, laying down stoner-doom riffs that feel massive and unhurried. The band has been rolling boulders since 2016, their music evoking vast geological weight in every passage.

Seattle's Grand Moff bring a ruler's command to stoner-doom, their riffs thick and authoritative over a haze of fuzz and feedback. The city's damp heaviness seeps into every groove they've constructed since forming in 2019.

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.

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.

Brooklyn's Green Hog Band blend psychedelic rock, stoner riffing, and doom-paced heaviness into something loose-limbed and groove-driven. Since 2020 they've been staking out the cosmic, smoke-hazed intersection of those worlds in New York City's underground.

New Jersey's Green Inferno draw their name from the cannibal horror tradition and channel that aesthetic into slow, suffocating doom metal built on mountainous riffs. Since 2019, they've been making music as heavy and unpleasant as the films that inspired them.

Dallas stoner/doom trio. Massive fuzzy riffs and heavy grooves.