istry has spent more than four decades finding new reasons to be furious, and Al Jourgensen isn’t suddenly becoming more diplomatic. Hate to Go (Take Out or Delivery) opens with the sound of crickets before the guitars, programming, and political samples take over. It’s a suitably sarcastic introduction from a band that has never been particularly interested in keeping its opinions to itself. The targets have changed over the years, but the approach remains familiar. Find something worth getting angry about, turn up the machinery, and make sure nobody misses the point.

Released October 30, 2026, through Cleopatra Records, Ministry’s seventeenth studio album is being presented as its last. Jourgensen has made retirement announcements before, so the farewell comes with a little history attached. The more interesting question is whether another collection of political grievances can remain musically engaging when the man delivering them has been making similar arguments for decades.

“Crickets” establishes the approach with its contrast between environmental sounds, abrasive instrumentation, and political commentary. “Voices of Hate” follows with a faster attack, allowing the guitars and drums to push against a more melodic chorus. That combination is important. Ministry has always been capable of making ugly music surprisingly catchy, and the electronics give the riffs something more interesting to work against than another layer of distortion.

The current lineup includes guitarists Monte Pittman and Cesar Soto, bassist Paul D’Amour, keyboardist and programmer John Bechdel, and drummer Pepe Clarke Magaña. Their contributions help explain why the album doesn’t settle into one continuous barrage. “Clown Car” draws on hardcore and thrash rhythms, while “We Hate” takes a more deliberate approach, giving Jourgensen’s shouted delivery plenty of room. The political targets aren’t difficult to identify. Sometimes the repetition gets the point across, and sometimes it simply repeats the point.

“Delete” is particularly blunt about social media and the technological habits that have taken over everyday life. Its sample-heavy arrangement places electronic textures closer to the foreground, although the reliance on spoken material can interrupt the musical flow. There’s also something amusing about Ministry incorporating AI-generated voices while criticizing the culture that helped produce them. Whether that irony is deliberate or simply convenient, it suits a band that has spent much of its career turning modern technology against itself.

The slower “Grifter” changes the pace considerably. Synthesizers and sampled speech establish the atmosphere before the heavier instrumentation enters, with Jourgensen delivering a rougher, less hurried vocal. “The White Man Lied,” included on the digital and CD editions but absent from the standard vinyl and cassette releases, introduces a more rhythmic, sample-driven approach. These changes matter because the album’s political vocabulary is fairly limited. The arrangements have to provide much of the variety.

“Singularity” returns to faster, thrash-oriented guitars while addressing artificial intelligence and the growing influence of technology. “Burned Out” pulls several contemporary concerns into one extended industrial arrangement. War, political corruption, and social unrest are familiar territory for Jourgensen, and his commentary rarely leaves much open to interpretation. That directness has always been part of Ministry’s appeal, although it can make repeated listens depend more on the grooves than on discovering anything new in the lyrics.

The closing “We’re Still Here” brings Paul Barker back into the picture, contributing keyboards and programming. His presence connects the album to an important period in Ministry’s history, but the song also changes the mood. Darker textures, contrasting vocal approaches, and a more expansive arrangement give the final minutes a reflective quality that much of the preceding material avoids. After an album spent identifying everything wrong with the world, ending on a statement of survival is a welcome change.

So does Hate to Go (Take Out or Delivery) have anything new to say? Jourgensen’s political anger is familiar, and the repeated samples and slogans occasionally limit the songs. The more convincing argument comes from the music itself. Thrash guitars, electronic grooves, slower passages, and Barker’s return give the record enough variation to keep those familiar complaints interesting. If this really is Ministry’s final album, Jourgensen hasn’t suddenly found peace with the world. He has simply decided to get the last few complaints on record before leaving.

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Written by Rob Joncas for DeadNoteMedia.
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