He hasn’t shaved in weeks
Greasy hair, dirt compact under his yellow finger nails
Cigarette breathe, whiskey dreams fill his head
Just as much say as the rats under the floorboards
He walks through giant oak doors; golden crosses, scent galore
The door slams shut mid sermon, fresh faces turn to see
The elephant in their holy room
How foul this trash interrupts our embarkment to salvation
A crisp twenty in the communion
An assessment to flee heaven and hell’s union
A young girl, golden hair in curls, blows hot and cold on this enigma
The man with his calloused hands clinched;
He arises, clears his throat, begins
He condemns their money
A cluttered mind no longer dreams
Just then he screams
"If you can buy your way to heaven, then I’ll rot in the ground"
Tokyo band contrast black metal's brutal complexity with shoegaze's abyssal grandeur, resulting in an LP that feels crushing, yet infinite. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 24, 2022
A four-way screamo split from Infant Island, Massa Nera, Frail Body, and Dianacrawls captures the atmospheric urgency of their scene. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 2, 2019
Screamo, post-rock, and a little black metal meld together for Virginia quartet Infant Island's signature immersive and melancholy sound. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 28, 2020