Pavor by Vomitriste

A sick, sad rain falls sullenly on this ruined landscape, watering the seeds of collapse. No flower nor hint of color blooms here, as if sunlight itself had been washed away and banished. Cold and barren, this bitter blueprint stands in perpetual decay, yet never fades to nothing, a testament to emptiness and entropy, ever welcoming new rot, new misery, new desolation.

Additional distribution for collaborations with Machine Tribe Recordings artists as well as other musical adventurers we admire. Genre loyalists can see themselves to the door.

All physical orders include a Random Sampler of Machine Tribe Recordings releases.