Posts Tagged ‘Industrial’

ant-zen – 16th September 2023

Christopher Nosnbor

Four years on from Tar, Ukrainian industrial duo Kadaitcha, consisting of Andrii Kozhukhar and Yurii Samson, have overcome many, many challenges to deliver album number five, in the form of Tramontane.

The tracks which appeared on their limited lathe-cut single last year do not appear here, and this is admirable: singles so often tend to be used as launchpads for albums, and it was particularly common in the 80s and 90s that albums would sell on the basis of a couple of singles, but would have next to no other decent tracks. In the days before streaming, this was something that was easy to get away with, since the only way of hearing the album was by buying it, which you would do based on the singles. But then, the risk could be reduced by taking punts using your half price or free options through Britanna Music, or similar. The advent of streaming hasn’t really improved things, though, because now, at least in mainstream circles, the album is essentially obsolete.

But outside the mainstream, the album is thriving, and artists are pushing the format now that the constraints and limitations of physical formats aren’t necessarily dictatorial in determining duration, and there are infinite options for exploration. The single wasn’t so much of a stop-gap release as a standalone document of a period in time. But the key point here is that Tramontane is very much an album, and a work to be approached as such. The notes which accompany the release are almost hallucinatory – not quite Burroughs cut-ups, but fragmented, non-linear, and they serve to articulate the essence of the music contained here. Stylistically, it’s tight and cogent, and there’s a flow to it, too, which begins with the appropriately-titled ‘Intro’, which is precisely that – a short instrumental intro piece which paves the way for the ten heavyweight cuts which follow. But within that coherence, what Tramontane offers is a work which really goes all-out to disrupt and unsettle.

‘Niello’ draws primarily on the sound and style of earlier industrial music, the electronic pioneers of the late 70s and early 80s, the likes of DAF and Cabaret Voltaire, but with its distorted, menacing vocals, there’s an element of the later evolutions of industrial which emerged in the mid 80s. It seems to be that there are very different understandings of industrial, and while Al Jourgensen may be a huge fan of William Burroughs and the music that formed the body of the first wave of Industrial music, namely Throbbing Gristle and also the wild tape loop works of Foetus and the heavy percussion of Test Dept, it’s industrial metal and harsh post-NIN electronica which have come to become synonymous with industrial latterly.

On Tramontane, Kadaitcha have brought the two forms, old and new, together, and the result is discordant, noisy, difficult. And these are its selling points. It feels like a guided tour through the most challenging aspects of Industrial music through its evolution and history.

‘Knife’ is a sparse, oppressive low-end throb pinned down by a dull, thudding, muffled-sounding beat, over which twitching electrical streams flash and flow while monotone vocals are unsettlingly detached. The percussion really dominates on the tempestuous ‘Liars’ and any and all references to Einstürzende Neubauten are entirely appropriate. It’s a thunderous, dense racket where the low end really stands to the fore, but it’s tame in comparison to the dark ‘Offering’: even when it drives out as a heavy and insistent bass riff, it feels unfinished, undercomposed. Yet therein lies its success: it feels organic, and nothing is overdone.

The mangled noise and droning distorted vocal on ‘Fossil’ is pure Throbbing Gristle, a barrelling barrage of blitzkrieg laser synth bleeps and a whole mess of midrange and lower end distortion and dirt, churning, discordant, the monotone vocals almost buried in the tempest of overloading unpleasantness, and ‘Seeds’ is similarly unpleasant and uncomfortable, everything going all out on overdrive.

It all comes together on ‘Insight’: beginning as a gentle, spacious, mellow post-rock guitar-led piece, it soon erupts into a mess of overload akin to Metal Machine Music, only with drums and sinister vocals. It’s got the lot, and as the album enters its final stages, it seems to consolidate the elements of the previous tracks to punch even harder, with the percussion harder, the grinding morass denser and darker.

Perhaps a reflection of the circumstances in which it was created, perhaps a reflection of the times in the world at large, Tramontane is heavy and at times harrowing. The lyrics may not be decipherable for the most part, but the mood requires no translation or interpretation, and Tramontane will crush your soul.

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28th August 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Techno/industrial is rather like craft beer. It was invented in Europe (KMFDM are obvious progenitors back in 1984), before being embraced in the States and with Wax Trax! almost singlehandedly spawning a factory for the genre, which in turn found significant popularity in mainland Europe, particularly in Germany.

English exponents are rather harder to come by, although Benjamin Blank, who has been working under the Binary Order moniker since 2008, is a worthy representative. His words on this latest single, lifted from forthcoming album The Future Belongs to the Mad (out at the end of November), illustrate perfectly why this mode of music is ideally-suited to life in Shit Britain: “’Slow Blade” is a reflection of the decline I’ve witnessed in my lifetime. It’s a decline that has gotten us to a point where we are more concerned with passing the blame than attempting fix the decay that has rotted away at us all, leaving many despondent and lost, myself included.”

I’m writing this in the week that, as schools are due to reopen after the summer break, hundreds are being forced to close or otherwise relocate students because the buildings are unsafe, built using cheap concrete which is structurally unsound and liable to collapse without notice. Our government has known about this for years, but has failed to act. And, indeed, over the last thirteen years, our infrastructure has been slowly crumbling – our roads, our sewerage systems, our rail network – as profit has been put before people, and we’ve become embroiled in petty patriotism, culture wars, and outright horrible racism and prejudice of every kind. It’s no wonder Blank feels as if our small island is sinking while the only things rising are rates of poverty, depression, and other mental health issues.

‘Slow Blade’ feels like a significant progression from the material which comprised previous album, Messages from the Deep. While it incorporated guitar elements, it was very much in the vein of early Nine Inch Nails, the sounds crisp, tight, overtly synth-dominated. In contrast, ‘Slow Blade’ is far more gnarly, far dirtier, more raw, rough-hewn, and simply more metal. And not the kind of metal you’d likely associate with industrial – the likes of Ministry or perhaps Godflesh – but gritty, murky black shit smashed together with the guitar slabs of nu-metal. At least, to begin with – because ‘Slow Blade’ is a song of psychotic multiple personalities, and a song in three parts.

Unexpectedly, the songs slows and goes first expansive and melodic, then explodes in a frenzy of stuttering techno beats that’s more Fixed than Pretty Hate Machine, and then it brings the two elements together in the third and final stage. While to suggest it has a particular arc, narrative or otherwise, feels like something of a stretch, ‘Slow Blade’ transitions through a series of emotions, from blind raging fury to the acceptance of defeat as everything collapses. The end is final. And we all know it’s coming.

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Felte FLT-089 – 14th July 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Mission to the Sun is Chris Samuels of Ritual Howls fame (synths, samples, programming) and Kirill Slavin (vocals/lyrics), and comes recommended for fans of Wolf Eyes, Moin, Throbbing Gristle, Coil, The Legendary Pink Dots, Drew McDowall, Suicide, Cabaret Voltaire, etc.

Sophia Oscillations is their second album, and it pitched as ‘an immersive journey through the dark corners of post-industrial music’, whereby ‘The Detroit based duo continues the sonic exploration started on their debut album Cleansed by Fire, while delving deeper into themes of isolation and lost communication. Christopher Samuels’ synths, samples and rhythmic programming is accented by Kirill Slavin’s haunting vocal delivery as the listener receives intersperse audio recordings from the outer reaches of inner space.’ This may seem an unusual angle of approach given their chosen moniker, but the one place hotter than the sun or the earth’s core is the core of what it is to be human. We still understand space better than we understand the deep sea, and the deep sea better than we understand the human mind. There is much scope for exploration in every sphere.

William Burroughs famously described ‘Scottish Beat’ writer Alexander Trocchi as a ‘cosmonaut of inner space’, although he also applied the label to himself, stating ‘In my writing I am acting as a map maker, an explorer of psychic areas, a cosmonaut of inner space, and I see no point in exploring areas that have already been thoroughly surveyed.’

This is an appropriate context for the eight compositions which make up Sophia Oscillations, which are essentislly beatless but strongly rhythmic in form. If they belong to the lineage of the avant-garde and the industrial music of the late 70s, it equally draws on a host of other, more contemporary threads in order to forge something quite different and ultimately new.

‘Drowning’ surges and pulses, rippling waves washing over a slow-treading bassline which wanders up and down, stepping somewhere between DAF and The Cure’s Carnage Visors while the vocals whisper and wheeze low in the mix, a stealthy monotone that’s both tense and detached. Whistles of feedback strain from the speakers and wrap themselves around the whole drifting expanse. Things take a turn for the abrasive on the title track, with machine-gun blasts of noise cutting through grainy swathes of bleak ambience, gradually fracturing and fragmenting quite uncomfortably.

There are hints of medievalism and classical on ‘Censor Sickness’, but they’re melted into a dark murk of muttered voices and unsettling atmospherics, and the combination is quite unsettling and far from comfortable: if anything, it’s queasy, and the minimal yet noisy ‘Unborn’ pushes this to another level: stark, metallic, robotic electronica, it has an 80s dystopian feel which again calls to mind DAF and Cabaret Voltaire. The late 70s and early 80s were exciting because musicians with limited means – and ability – were finding ways of using emerging, and increasingly affordable – technology to make music which represented the world in which they found themselves. As such, the emergence of experimental electronic music and industrial music was born out of a collision of multiple factors, none of which will ever recur, and for this reason can never be recreated.

Mission to the Sun aren’t attempting to recreate history here, but instead, Sophia Oscillations finds them processing history through their own filters. ‘Attrition’ brings together post-rock and crunching industrial electronica with a dash of Gary Numan and more detached spoken-word vocals, and it’s a hybrid that isn’t easy to process, because it all feels so alienating. But then, articulating alienation always does.

The churning grind of ‘Cornerstone’ sounds like the intro to something by Big Black, but instead of Roland kicking in, alongside a relentless bass, it just grinds on and on, and it’s dark and messy. Once again, Slavin’s voice is half-buried in the mix: it’s difficult to decipher the words, and his voice hovers, blank, flat, vaguely Dalek-like, in the vein of Dr Mix, but less harsh.

Sophia Oscillations is a challenging album. Yes, it’s unsettling, bleak, stark sparse, but the hardest part is the fact it doesn’t confirm to any one genre, it doesn’t follow any obvious or specific form, and it’s not the fact that it’s unsettling and difficult to find a place for it that’s the issue, but the fact it keeps you tense and on edge for its duration. But, perhaps even more than that is the fact it feels removed from anything human. But it’s not so far removed as to be alien. The brain simply isn’t equipped to process the inhuman– or the near-human-but-not-quite, the uncanny, the unheimlich. Because we recognise it, and yet we don’t. Sophia Oscillations brings the challenge right in front of your face. Sit back, draw breath, process. This isn’t an easy ride.

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The Helen Scarsdale Agency – 4th August 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

She Spread Sorrow is the musical vehicle for Italian artist Alice Kundalini, and over the course of a number of releases, the majority via Coldspring, she has explored a minimal industrial style, stark yet dense, and characterised by an eerie, whispered vocal delivery.

As the accompanying notes explain, ‘Orchid Seeds was originally published as part of the instantly out of print On Corrosion – a 10 cassette anthology from 2019 that was housed in a handcrafted wooden box and featuring full albums from Kleistwahr, Neutral, Pinkcourtesyphone, Alice Kemp, She Spread Sorrow, G*Park, Relay For Death, Francisco Meirino, Fossil Aerosol Mining Project, and Himukalt. The collection also stood as the 50th release for The Helen Scarsdale Agency, an imprint founded in 2003 and dedicated to post-industrial research, recombinant noise, surrealist demolition, existential vacancy and then some.’

Four years on, it finally gets a standalone release, both digitally and on vinyl.

Kundalini states that the album, “is about 5 different women of my family. Each track is about one of them with their difficult story and strengths. My family is totally destroyed now, no relation between anyone, but in the past there was a strong tradition of women with

interesting personalities.”

And even by the standards of She Spread Sorrow, Orchid Seeds is stark and eerie, dark and unsettling. The reverby, robotic vocals that whisper and moan over the sparse backing of ‘The Solitude in the Giant House’ may set the tone, and with a vintage drum machine thudding and clopping in the background, it has that late 70s vibe – somewhere between Young Marble Giants and cabaret Voltaire.

Things twist into darker territory with ‘Star’ as strains of feedback and grating, serrated synth ripples fizz and crackle beneath her gasping monotone vocal. This is much more reminiscent of Throbbing Gristle. It makes for a tense eight minutes: so often, when acts capable of producing great and heartstopping noise show such restraint as to keep it minimal yet audibly straining, the effect is amplified. This is one such composition; you find yourself moving to the edge of your seat, limbs tensing, waiting for something that never comes.

While the songs are about different people, ‘She Didn’t Care’ and ‘Queen of Guilt’ show opposite aspects of a theme, and perhaps provide some insight into the dynamic of the familial relationships and why they collapsed. The former is built around a stammering beat and hovering, hesitant synthesized organ hum; the sound and overall performance is primitive, immediate, while in contrast, the latter is dominated by a slow, heavy beat defined by a thunderous, reverberating snare, over which a simple synth wanders as echoed vocals drift, fuzzed and breathy and way off in the distance. The effect is some king of industrial dub, and it’s unsettling but not altogether unpleasant, perhaps because it contains stripped-back elements of common pop and dub tropes and so its oddness is countered by a certain stylistic familiarity.

The fifth and final track, ‘The Fortune of Others’, builds through serrated oscillations to grind away for what feels like a slow-throbbing eternity of electronic claustrophobia. It’s important to bear in mind the context: this is an album that’s equal parts narrative and concept, and the execution really pushes the concept to the fore, building the atmospheres of moments missed.

Without more detail – and let’s face it, more detail would likely be unsettling, even potentially traumatic – it’s impossible to determine the full extent of the meaning and also the pain behind the title. But for better or worse, the prospect of taking a firm grasp on the album seems to grow ever further away as it progresses. There is something magnificently and also frustratingly elusive about Orchid Seeds, and however deep you delve, however long you seek it, one suspects it will remain eternally beyond grasp.

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For this follow-up effort to their 2021 debut album Blacken the Skies, the Terminal formula of industrial glam has been updated with ‘more industrial, more glam.’ Mainman Thomas Mark Anthony also makes a strident case for being his genre’s best wordsmith, weaving grand themes of power, zealotry and corruption via complex rhymes and anthemic choruses. Picking up where its predecessor left off in its excoriation of society’s dangerous hypocrites, the very first line on the new record is “How many guns would Jesus buy?” Plato’s Republic provides the album title and theme – that an unjust society is a doomed society and democracy in itself is no defence against demagogues or tyrants – while Anthony’s sonorous baritone is prominent in the mix as he ponders existential themes of religion and mortality.

Compared to the rapid-fire delivery of Blacken The Skies, the new Terminal songs are wider in breadth and depth as well as longer in duration, while experimental influences are evident in the orchestral-inspired title track and in the hard glam of ‘Don’t Be Taken Alive’, which is believed to be the first industrial blues shuffle. The album includes four instrumentals among its thirteen tracks.

The New Republic is dedicated to the late Metropolis Records label founder Dave Heckman.

The soundtrack to a world unbalanced, reeling, spinning out of control and running out of time, Terminal allies industrial music and glam rock with trace quantities of dark techno, synthpop and raw machine recordings. Each of their songs is a broadside against the atrocities of lost humanity and the devastation of our planet.

Terminal is the work of singer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Thomas Mark Anthony. A lifelong anti-apartheid and civil rights activist over a life lived in South Africa, Canada and the United States, Anthony is joined by the US-based Terminal Live Unit for his group’s powerful and confrontational live shows.

Check lead single ‘The Sin of the Sanctified’ here:

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Electro-Industrial music producer Miss FD has just released her latest electrifying single, ‘Distractions’. The track showcases a combination of dark, pulsating instrumentals, and sinister female vocals.

‘Distractions’ envelops listeners in a dystopian realm, where glitchy electronic textures intertwine with gritty industrial elements to create an immersive cyber industrial undercurrent. The turbulent fusion of atmospheric soundscapes, aggressive beats, and haunting melodies sets the stage for lyrics inviting listeners to question and reflect on the constant bombardment of distractions thrown at us, keeping us from truly grasping the rapidly evolving events taking place in the world around us.

‘Distractions’ is out now through Quantum Release Records, available worldwide on all major streaming outlets.

Listen here:

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Miss FD is an underground dark electronic music artist, singer, songwriter, producer, and performer. The project began in 2009 and has since captivated audiences from the dark music world with a unique combination of haunting yet upbeat music, thoughtful lyrics, and mysterious and sensual vocals.

Miss FD released her debut single ‘Together Forever’ in 2009 to positive reception. This was swiftly followed-up in 2010 with her seminal debut album Monsters in the Industry. Her original style focused on electro-industrial, dark synthpop, and darkwave related genres. From 2010 to 2017, Miss FD went on to release a string of singles including ‘Love Magic’, Down in the Dungeon’, ‘Infatuated’, ‘Cry For You (Haunted)’, ‘Unraveling’, and ‘Electropop Sickle’. She also released two more albums, 2011’s Love Never Dies and 2013’s Comfort for the Desolate.

2018 saw Miss FD combine all her musical prowess over the years for her definitive industrial-rock album “Transcendence”. “Transcendence” also included a collaboration with Vulture Culture, whom she would further collaborate with on the singles ‘Ashes Of Stars’, ‘Spitfire’, and ‘Faster Than Light’.

Following her 2020 singles ‘Keep Going’ and ‘Pandemic 2020’, Miss FD released her three-song EP “Adore”, and the single ‘Your Core’, which were heavily infused with futuristic and cyberpunk elements. 2022 saw Miss FD exploring Göbekli Tepe in her three-song dark pop EP, “As Above, So Below”, followed by her cyberpunk single ‘Menticide’. 2023 brings the release of Miss FD’s latest cyber-industrial single ‘Distractions’.

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Solo experimental electro-industrial outfit, Nebulae Complex has just unveiled their new EP, Bryozoan Operator.

Inspired by peculiar plant and deep sea life amongst other themes, Bryozoan Operator paints an almost alien, yet familiar planetary landscape as viewed through remote sensing instrumentation. While Bryozoan Operator is not a concept EP, each track tells both its own story and also belongs in a loosely-tied and loosely-defined aesthetic universe of the entire EP.

The EP opens a new musical era for Nebulae Complex. It signifies a shift to harder-hitting electro-industrial beats with layered vocals while continuing with an intricate sound design. The sound and music morph organically and sometimes unexpectedly, albeit with solid precision and intention.

As a taster, they’ve produced a video for the track ‘Bleachburn’. Watch it here:

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7th July 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

I recall, when I was growing up, people often being admonished for using the word ‘hate’. ‘It’s such a strong word’, would be the lecture. Usually it was adults telling teens this: no, you don’t ‘hate’ school, you don’t ‘hate’ that band, or that annoying kid in your class. I never saw it as such a big deal. I suppose, on reflection, we were using ‘hate’ in a hyperbolic sense. Now, however, we seem to use the word somewhat less frequently, but feel hate – real hate – being expressed more freely. It’s not pleasant, and while much is said and written about the toxic environments of social media, the real world really isn’t any more pleasant. From toxic work environments to increasingly right-wing governments creating division and stoking hatred of minorities, be they immigrants, the poor, or the disabled, the world we live in is not a nice place to be, and it’s small wonder that mental health issues are at an all-time high.

‘Full of Hate’ isn’t about the outward projection of hate onto individuals or groups, but the inward-focused grapplings of torment, as the accompanying notes explain: ‘The song captures the suffocating feelings of anger and isolation that engulf us and often leave us with a feeling of being confined. Moreover, the song does so within the span of ninety seconds.’

And that it does: they’ve condensed all the intensity of emotion into a minute and a half. Zero fat here. It’s the bass that defines ‘Full of Hate’. By which I mean it’s a 360-degree immersive sound, the thick distortion secondary in impact to the booming frequencies. So dense is the sound that it almost submerges the mechanised drums and growling vocals. The vocals are unexpected, at least on first listen: there’s an association with screaming and full-lunged roaring as giving vent to anger, rage, and catharsis. But on ‘Full of Hate’, the vocals are controlled, focused, all the more difficult to process in context. There are some moments of dodgy autotune, but overall, it’s that sense of keeping a lid on things that suggests psychopathy, and which renders ‘Full Of Hate’ all the darker, all the more intense.

It’s one powerful, tension-blasting minute-and-a-half that’s awkward and uncomfortable, seething rather than foaming as the rage flows.

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Cruel Nature Records – 16th June 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

After calling time on Head of David in 1991, Stephen R. Burroughs re-emerged in 2013 as Stephen Ah Burroughs with recording as TUNNELS OF ĀH, and offering a dark ambient focus. Since the first TUNNELS OF ĀH album, Lost Corridors, Burroughs has maintained a steady output through the years, also working under the FRAG moniker (although this project was conceived in the ‘90s, it wasn’t until much later that recordings would begin to be released).

THE SMEARED CLOTH (2012 – 2018 UNEARTHED), as the title suggests, collects unreleased recordings made between 2012 and 2018 and more recently excavated. You couldn’t exactly call this a cash-in: this is ultra-niche and it is, however, a valuable dredging of the archives.

The cassette release is a double, with volume 1 spanning 2012-2015, and volume 2 spanning 2016-2018, and while an album conceived as an end-to-end listening experience would suffer from the enforced breaks, the (cruel) nature of this release means this isn’t an issue.

Oftentimes, with dark ambient works it feels as if the sounds are drifting out of the air rather than being forged by any kind of instruments, but the warping drones of the first composition, ‘Aceldama’, twist and grind and there’s quite analogue synth feel to it, with distant vocals adding an intriguing depth. In contrast, ‘Garlic Blades’ feels as if it something that has come not from instruments, but from a pair of bellows wheezing in a dank underworld. The two sonic facets come together on the third track, the heavy, stark ‘Brute World’ where drifting drones and creeping atmospherics filter over tense, brooding strings, and this all provides the backdrop to barely-audible incantations in a mystical tongue.

These contrasting elements highlight the range of the recordings featured on THE SMEARED CLOTH – and with twenty-one tracks, the majority of which are over six minutes in length, it’s a substantial document. But despite the contrasts – and the span of time over which the recordings were made – there is a certain cohesion to this collection, and the tracks run from one to the next without there being any jarring leaps.

Repetition is a common feature of the compositions; ‘Keys King at the Womb Again’ is centred around a short loop of a heavy industrial scraping, which equally sounds like a pained bark – or a pained barf, for that matter. Because Burroughs does venture into harsher territories at times, there’s some uncomfortable listening to be had among the drones and hums, scrapes and chants, and there are extended passages of quiet, ominous ambience, sounds without definition or any indication of origin ebb, flow, and eddy, to unsettling effect. The mid-section in particular is given to these more abstract forms, the sounds muted and creeping slowly, stealthily. ‘The Cloth is Smeared’ is exemplary: the words, spoken in an even, ritualistic tone, echo amidst creaking, creeping hums and clattering , and while stylistically worlds away, it harks back to themes that go back to early Head of David: the viscerality of ‘Smears’ (it’s a word which carries so much power and evokes a real revulsion, and religion, as represented by cuts like ‘Newly Shaven Saint’. Somewhat annoyingly and inappropriately because my brain is not my friend, the phrase ‘touching cloth’ insists on thrusting itself into my mind – and my mind wanders as it finds itself led through the dark, metal-edged passages of ‘Great Darkness’ with churning noise and what sounds like the clank of metal against railings, as if in protest or otherwise or trapped inside a prison cell. ‘Metallic Shoes and a Sword’ is particularly sharp-edged in the abrasive edges that saw through the swampiness of the damp gloaming, before ‘Gnosis of Self Loathing’ and ‘Amorphophallus’ drive us deep into some gruesomely dark spaces, suffocating, strangling, asphyxiating in their density: these are the sounds of slow punishment.

While the pieces themselves are (essentially) instrumental, the titles convey a great deal and ‘Circumcision (Hunter Christ)’ and ‘The Castrate Became An Angel’ largely speak for themselves. The latter is minimal, jittery, tense, like listening to the sounds in the walls at night and wondering if you have some kind in infestation. And perhaps. perhaps you do, but it’s in your body, inside your skull. There’s nothing here to calm that anxiety, only crackling distortion and drones and groans, grumbling, gut-shaking rumbles.

THE SMEARED CLOTH hangs dark, damp, and heavy, and rather than sounding like a bunch of straggly offcuts, it showcases the depth and breadth of Burroughs’ work, that the works in progress and outtakes and otherwise cast off and forgotten recordings are enough to make two full-length albums of consistent quality.

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UK industrial band Binary Order just unleashed their new EP; a release containing three remixes of previously released tracks and a reimagined, industrial cover of Papa Roach’s song, ‘Thrown Away’.

Says Binary Order’s creator, Benjamin Blank, “The song’s subject matter is something that resonated sharply with me when I first heard it. It’s about being an outcast and only knowing a life of being rejected. It has continued to resonate with me till this day.”

The Thrown Away EP is available now on all digital platforms.

Hear ‘Thrown Away’ here:

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