Springfield, Massachusetts's Palace in Thunderland have been building towering psychedelic stoner-doom architectures since 2007, where fuzzed-out riffs slowly collapse into themselves like ancient stone ruins. Every song feels like an altered-state ritual stretched across geological time.

California's Peacepipe deals in the slow and heavy currency of stoner doom — hazy, fuzz-drenched riffs that drag like tar through desert heat.

Cleveland's Pillärс (stylized with an umlaut and a grimace) combines crust punk's political bite with doom and sludge's crushing tempo, forging music as heavy as the city's industrial legacy demands.

Out of Spearfish, South Dakota — a long way from any metal scene — Pine Beetle channels the desolate Black Hills landscape into slow, sun-baked stoner sludge with teeth.

Chicago's Plague of Carcosa draws its name from Robert W. Chambers' mythos and its sound from the intersection of stoner, sludge, and doom — heavy, hazy, and haunted by something that refuses to be named.

Albany's Planet Eater drag sludge and stoner weight through a metalcore framework, building slow-burning riffs into volatile, lurching explosions. Since 2016 they've carved a niche in the Northeast underground where heaviness is measured in tonnage.

Madison, Wisconsin's Plant have been sowing stoner groove since 2007, rooting their sound in thick mid-paced riffs and a low-end rumble that owes as much to swamp rock as it does to metal. Unhurried, heavy, and deliberately earthy.

Fort Worth's Plough emerged in 2025 with the sun-baked swagger of Southern metal rooted deep in Texas soil, blending the fuzz-heavy stomp of stoner rock with a regional earthiness that feels genuinely local. Heavy and unhurried, they arrive at a moment when the Metroplex's heavy scene has room for something built to ride slow and loud.

From Saint Marys, Ohio, PolyCrisis weave groove metal's mid-tempo pound together with stoner rock's fuzz and swagger, arriving at something heavy enough for the pit but wide-eyed enough for the couch. Formed in 2023, they're a small-town answer to a question nobody was asking — and the answer turns out to be pretty satisfying.

Brodhead, Kentucky's PondDigger plants stoner and doom metal in genuinely rural soil, delivering the kind of slow, smoke-thick riffs that feel earned when they come from somewhere this far off the map. Formed in 2023, they carry the unhurried weight of Appalachian isolation in every distorted chord, a natural extension of the land they come from.

Augusta, Georgia's Possum Rot have been dragging stoner metal through the red clay of the Deep South since 2018, thick with fuzz and moving at the deliberate pace of something that doesn't need to rush. Their name is perfectly placed — there's a swampy, roadside authenticity to their sound that no amount of production polish could manufacture.

Seattle's Powerhitter has been rolling out thick, fuzz-drenched stoner metal since 2015, the kind that feels native to the Pacific Northwest's overcast skies and long winters. Grooves take priority over aggression here — riffs that lock into a heavy, unhurried swing, built to fill a room and make your ribs vibrate. They inhabit the classic space between Black Sabbath's lumbering weight and the desert-rock swagger of the American stoner scene, localized to Seattle's particular brand of slow-building intensity.

Tampa's Prescribed Fire emerged in 2020 with a stoner metal and rock sound rooted in the humid, swampy weight that the Florida underground handles particularly well. Slow, fuzz-drenched riffs and a hazy psychedelic atmosphere define their approach, marrying the heavy slow-burn of the genre's doom-adjacent tendencies with the loose-limbed, open-road spirit that has always made stoner metal feel lived-in.

Probot is the brainchild of Dave Grohl — a sprawling heavy metal superproject that united some of the most iconic voices in underground metal history, including Lemmy Kilmister, Max Cavalera, Wino, and members of Discharge and Sepultura. Operating out of Alexandria, Virginia and drawing from doom, stoner, groove, and classic heavy metal, the project stands as a reverent and thunderous love letter to the genres that shaped Grohl long before Nirvana.

Fort Myers, Florida's Psychic Dose traffics in psychedelic stoner-doom — slow, narcotic riffing saturated in fuzz and reverb, evoking sun-scorched Southern haze with a heavy, lysergic weight that builds across their songs.