To Discover: Post Death Soundtrack
Alright folks, we’re already knee-deep in September 2024, and let me ask you—have you still not checked out Veil Lifter by Post Death Soundtrack? Seriously, what’s holding you back? This album, which dropped back on April 16, has been causing all kinds of noise—figuratively and literally—and it shows no signs of slowing down. This isn’t your average album that fades into the background. Nah, it digs its claws into your psyche and refuses to loosen its grip. Ever.
So, where to begin? Well, let’s kick things off with "Lowdown Animal", the opening track that makes it clear from the first beat that Steve Moore is not here to play nice. Nope. He’s channeling something primal. When he belts out those lines about the hyena, he’s not just singing—he is the hyena. Forget about Disney-fied, Lion King fantasies—this is the real, raw, and wild beast. And the inspiration? Oh, just a traumatic childhood right out of Lord of the Flies meets the misery of losing everything in a divorce. Yeah, even the kittens. It’s brutal, heart-wrenching stuff, but weirdly, it’s empowering too. You don’t just wallow in the pain; you rise from it, laughing like that pesky hyena in the face of utter chaos.
Now, onto the album as a whole. Buckle up, because Veil Lifter is no walk in the park. It's a filthy, fierce mix of thrash, grunge, doom, and hardcore, smashing through your speakers like a freight train on steroids. Picture this: Alice in Chains, Black Sabbath, and Nirvana all having a jam session with Queens of the Stone Age. Sound intense? It is. It’s raw, dirty, and unapologetically gritty—like being dragged through the mud by a pack of ravenous hyenas (yes, they’re all over this album). And yet, somehow, you want to keep going. It’s hypnotic, in a kind of I can’t look away sort of way.
But hey, this isn’t just a headbanging fest. No, Moore and his partner-in-crime Jon Ireson have layered some seriously deep stuff here. The album title, Veil Lifter, isn’t just for show—it’s a nod to Eastern philosophy, the idea of lifting the veil of ignorance. Yeah, this album isn’t afraid to drag you through the darkest, most twisted corners of the human mind—mental illness, existential crises, spiritual turmoil. Moore takes you on a journey through dreamlike visions and surreal nightmares, searching for renewal. Every track? It’s like peeling back another raw, unfiltered layer of human experience, whether you’re ready or not.
And let’s talk about the grind that went into this. Moore didn’t just throw this together over a weekend. He poured his blood, sweat, and tears into it. The man battled isolation, depression, addiction—it’s all right there, woven into the music. It’s real, it’s raw, and at times, it’s almost uncomfortable. But it’s alive, man. Ireson’s basslines are gnarly as hell, adding a brutal intensity, and Casey Lewis’s drumming? It’s the primal heartbeat of this beast, keeping everything chaotic but somehow grounded. Together, they’ve crafted something that doesn’t just play in your ears—it thrashes through your soul.
And the tracks? Oh boy. "The Die is Cast" and "Hammer Come Down" don’t just hit; they slam into you with the force of a sledgehammer. These walls of sound are relentless, driving you deeper into the album’s heavy, sludgy world. Then, when you think you’ve caught your breath, "Icy Underground" drags you back into the depths with eerie, haunting riffs that send shivers down your spine. It’s not just intense; it’s spine-tingling. You don’t just hear it—you feel it.
But hold up—it’s not all about fury and rage. There’s heart here, too. In fact, there’s a deeply personal thread running through the whole album, particularly in tracks like "Immovable" and "Burrowing Down the Spine." Moore dedicates the entire album to his late father, Ted George Moore, his hero and inspiration. There’s a weighty emotional punch in that dedication, one that ripples through the music, especially in the quieter, more reflective moments. It’s dark, sure, but it’s also a tribute to resilience. This album is about surviving life’s worst moments—and doing it with your head held high, even when the world feels like it’s crumbling around you.
It’s been five months since Veil Lifter dropped, and it’s still just as raw, just as powerful, just as cathartic as the day it was released. This isn’t just music—it’s a purge, an emotional exorcism wrapped up in a thunderous, soul-shaking soundscape. You might come for the grungey riffs and the hardcore thrash, but you’ll stay for the catharsis, the feeling of having been through something deeply, profoundly transformative. Once this album sinks its teeth into you, trust me, there’s no turning back. And why would you want to?
If you haven’t given it a spin yet, seriously—what are you waiting for? You’ll come out the other side a little different, maybe even a little stronger.
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