The latest outing of Mike Mangini with his new band Monolith doesn’t try to dazzle with speed or overwhelm with complexity. Their third single, “Gooru,” lands with restraint, depth, and a clear sense that something is being said, without ever shouting. Known for his past work with Dream Theater, Mike Mangini has often been associated with mathematical precision and blistering technique. But here, the approach feels almost inverted. The drumming is measured, even understated, serving the song first and foremost.
The track opens slowly, unfolding rather than erupting. There’s a steady pulse that anchors the mood, and it’s Mangini who carries that rhythm with careful attention to space and tone. It’s not a performance, trying to prove anything. If anything, it’s a statement about maturity, knowing when to lean back instead of forward. Each kick and snare hit lands not because it’s loud or fast, but because it sits exactly where it needs to. Nothing drifts. Nothing crowds.
There are moments in “Gooru” where things do bend and shift: a quick pause, a sharp turn in tempo, a fill that sneaks into the pocket just before fading out again. Mangini lets these ideas in but doesn’t linger on them. It’s a kind of drumming that feels like conversation rather than demonstration. And that’s what gives the track its footing. He isn’t showing what he can do. He’s listening and responding to the rest of the band in real time.
Monolith doesn’t seem interested in making noise for noise’s sake. The guitars play tight, close to the beat, and the bass rarely strays from its role in keeping things grounded. Vocals are woven in rather than laid on top. The entire band moves like one thing, no part dominating the others. In that kind of environment, drumming like Mangini’s becomes invisible in the best way. It’s the thread that keeps the fabric from coming undone.
For fans expecting Mike Mangini to reprise his most high-octane moments from previous projects, “Gooru” might feel subdued. But that’s part of what makes it land. This is a drummer not chasing his legacy but exploring what happens when he sets it down and walks another way. The technique is still there, you can hear it in the balance, the placement, the way he leans into a groove and lets it hold, but it’s being used to tell a different kind of story now.
Lyrically, “Gooru” examines themes of disillusionment and inner resistance. Lines about “the limits of control” and “the weight of manufactured truth” suggest a deeper commentary, though the exact meaning is left open. It’s that ambiguity that gives the track room to breathe, and Mangini’s drumming echoes that space, tight, deliberate, rarely calling attention to itself. His patterns emphasize patience over power, working inside the song’s atmosphere rather than outside of it.
Since forming Monolith, Mangini has spoken publicly about wanting to pursue musical ideas that weren’t possible in his previous settings. “Gooru,” like the two singles before it: The Tower” and “Empty Vessel”, signals that the band isn’t chasing radio polish or progressive excess. Instead, they appear to be shaping a body of work built on weight, tone, and restraint. It’s not minimalist, but it is precise. For Mangini, the transition from longtime sideman to full collaborator is a clear evolution. In interviews, he’s hinted at how creatively invigorating it has been to work within a band where everyone contributes to the songwriting and where the pressure to play a particular role has been lifted. That shift seems to have unlocked something. His performances with Monolith don’t rely on speed or flash but speak to instinct and subtlety.
Monolith plans to continue releasing new material throughout the year, and there’s talk of a full album on the horizon. If the trajectory of their first three singles is any indication, the complete picture could be something layered and deliberate, more about immersion than immediate payoff.
Mangini doesn’t just play drums in this group, he helps shape the space they all move through. And in doing that, he reminds listeners that sometimes, the quietest moments are the ones you end up returning to.