“A cold star stalks an old sun.”
Unique, yet not quite a hit.
“Gaze upon the fetid rot,
Weeping wounds of the world forgot”
Excessive ramblings on timbres harsh, elating, groovy, boisterous, and psychotic.
This is a fearful record for sure, but it is a fear that cannot ebb away simply because you are not in control of it. In other words, paranoia.
Eccentric, cerebrum-liquefying savagery.
Ramblings about new EPs and tracks off of upcoming records: crusty death metal, blistering mathcore neuroses, worming noise rock, and a myriad of other resonances.
The universe collapses. This is the soundtrack.
Event horizon in music form.
Mamaleek explores and emits timbres that ceaselessly flood city streets with deafening clamor.
Accursed black metal, the sound of anathema.