Drone 20180923 by Bonechurch

Born into suffocating stillness, gasping for breath, until the bubble bursts and the rancid sewage of the world comes pouring in. Then begins the near endless struggle against the septic current as it seeks to push you under, back into the filth. And at last, worn down and worn out, the final flatline. Silence. No sign of that struggle, no trace, leaving nothing in your wake—erased from history, forgotten.

Crafting DIY dark ambient, isolationism, noise, and experimental abstracts since 1999.

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