dystopian exoplanet — HERBIVORE

HERBIVORE sounds like being trapped inside a deteriorating synthesizer while distant voices argue about nothing. The palette is all degraded chords and lo-fi drone textures—think Throbbing Gristle’s patience mixed with bedroom tape hiss. It’s the kind of record that justifies all that talk about ambient as an emotional state rather than a genre, though it’s too restless and sour to ever genuinely comfort you.