BEN RANKIN All is Well in Hell

Ben Rankin’s “All Is Well In Hell” is a visceral plunge into the raw nerve endings of youth, stitched together with equal parts vulnerability and rage. It’s a ferocious, guttural cry from the depths of a mind that remembers what it means to feel everything all at once and to feel it loudly. Rankin doesn’t tiptoe around emotion; he stomps through it with steel-toed boots, and you can feel the floorboards buckle beneath him. There’s no pretense, no polish for polish’s sake just a storm of sound crafted with precision and a startling sense of control, even amidst the chaos.

What’s immediately striking is the duality at play Rankin pivots between thunderous screams and hollow-eyed calm like a flickering lightbulb on its last gasp of power. That tension is the song’s heartbeat. His voice cracks, breaks, and reforms in real time, embodying the emotional whiplash of teenage disillusionment. One minute, it’s all-consuming fury; the next, it’s a voice that sounds like it’s singing from beneath the weight of its own exhaustion. In this tonal dance, “All Is Well In Hell” captures something that feels eerily real anger not just as performance, but as a lived-in, shifting state of being.

The production, though intentionally minimalistic, doesn’t skimp on weight. The synths hum like fluorescent lights in an abandoned hall, and the bass hits like a body blow, dragging you into the marrow of the track. Each sonic layer is placed with near-obsessive intention no part of this song is filler. You can hear the hours behind the madness, the careful threading of static and silence, eruption and retreat. There’s a punk ethos to it DIY, emotional, explosive but it’s filtered through a keen ear for balance. Rankin is clearly a student of noise, distortion, and space.

More than anything, “All Is Well In Hell” is a song that understands catharsis not as conclusion, but as necessary process. It doesn’t try to solve the pain; it amplifies it, reshapes it, and gives it somewhere to live for three and a half minutes. Rankin has crafted more than just a track he’s carved out a screaming sanctuary for anyone who’s ever felt swallowed by apathy or burned by expectation. It’s brutal, it’s tender, and it’s devastatingly honest. If this is what 21 sounds like for Rankin, the world better brace itself for what comes next.

Written by Patrick