DOROTHY – “The Way”
Reviewed by Allister Spence • 4 August 2025
DOROTHY’s fourth album, “The Way,” is a gritty, primal scream of a record. It rejects the pristine polish of the digital age; no click tracks, no overt studio trickery. This is DOROTHY stripped bare, heart and soul exposed. Raw, loud, and defiant, it’s a record that demands to be played front to back, not cherry-picked for playlist fodder. Dorothy Martin doesn’t just sing; she preaches, prowls, howls, and pleads. Her voice is a weapon, matching every shriek and holler to Sam Bam Koltun’s exorcising guitar work. Producer Joel Hamilton pushes the levels into the red, making each track crackle with energy. Crescendos peak just shy of collapse, the speakers straining to contain the sonic chaos.
The album opens with “I Come Alive,” a wash of Hammer Horror organ and Martin vocalising like a mad witch summoning her personal devil. When the band kicks in, it’s a thunderclap; hook-heavy, simple, and ferocious. “The Devil I Know” follows, its grinding riffs morphing into melodic leads as Martin confronts her demons; especially the one wearing her own face. “Hell has no fury like my soul,” she declares, backed by a rhythm section locked tighter than Fort Knox. “Mud” leans into southern rock mayhem: power riffs, slide guitars, and Martin screaming like she’s caught in a fever dream, speaking in tongues as sweat splashes across the grooves.
“Tombstone Town” sees Slash return the favour after Martin’s guest spot on his “Orgy of the Damned” album. It’s a swampy, blues-soaked duel; Slash doesn’t get his own way, as DOROTHY match him lick for lick, grit for grit. “Bones” dials things down a notch. Think southern-fried Black Sabbath; verses that growl and scrape, choruses that soar. Each drumbeat feels like a heartbeat, and Koltun’s hook-heavy guitar work injects a dose of melodic venom.
“Unholy Water” is as close as DOROTHY come to delivering a pop tune. It still rocks, but Hamilton sprinkles some extra magic dust, giving it a polished shine. It’s another anthem of defiance, ripped straight from Martin’s soul. “Haunted House” explores internal battles with stark simplicity. The lyrics capture the feeling of being trapped in your own mind, misunderstood by those around you. It’s haunting, relatable, and quietly devastating. “Puttin’ Out The Fire” is a pop-rock gem; pleasant enough, but a bit pedestrian. I could easily imagine it being covered by Pink, or Demi Lovato in her more rocked up mode. It’s a nice song but doesn’t deliver in the same way the other tracks do.
“Superhuman” is a standout. From the first note, it builds tension like a slow-burning fuse. Gritty and dark, it haunts you long after it ends. Martin baptises the listener in rock ‘n’ roll salvation, making you feel safe and transcendent. The title track, “The Way,” closes the album with a stark piano ballad, light guitars, and strings. It’s a sonic outlier; quiet, contemplative, and cinematic. “I built this house from ashes and grace,” Martin sings, as the end credits roll in slow motion. It’s not the album’s strongest track, but it’s the perfect closer to a spiritual journey.
If you’re looking for comparisons, think Soundgarden stripped of ego, Sheryl Crow as a revivalist preacher, or Larkin Poe clawing their way out of the grave. Altogether, “The Way” delivers one message: when all hope feels lost; internally, or externally, only you can manifest a better tomorrow. DOROTHY urge you to ignore the noise, let go of regret, and fight for redemption. No, this isn’t a theological treatise; it is not a “Christian” album, but it is a raw, honest exploration of addiction, mental health, broken relationships, and spiritual reckoning. Dorothy Martin has lived through all these torments and come out the other side stronger and with a clearer idea of who she is. This album is her testimony. It’s well produced, well-paced, and well played. If you like old-fashioned hard rock with attitude and soul, “The Way” is your sermon.