Death Palmz detonates like a fever dream—raw, restless, and relentless. Born from the circuitry of Austin, Texas, Jon French (Exotic Fruitica) sculpts a five-song, self-titled creation that pulses with menace and movement. This is no polished machine; this is stripped-down synthpunk, wired tight with sub-heavy bass and bone-rattling minimalism. Suicide’s primitive electronics haunt its DNA, while NIN’s industrial grit, Liars’ unhinged experimentation, and Snapped Ankles’ primal urgency weave through its veins. The result is a hypnotic, relentless charge forward: mechanized rhythms grinding against feral energy, an untamed howl inside the grid. A revolt wrapped in electricity.
“I put this project together out of necessity,” says French. “I want to tour more and my current band has five members, which makes it difficult to hop on a plane and play a show. I designed my entire electronic rig to fit in one checked flight case: pedals for noise, an MS20 for synth work, and my SP404 which I’ve used to collect analogue instrument samples that I like.”
Regret coils like a serpent in the heart of Anywhere But Here, twisting through a restless grasp at something long lost. Time lurches, looping back on itself, trapping a weary soul between missteps and an uncertain horizon. Expectation bears down like iron shackles, while the urge to flee—tear loose from stagnation—wrestles against an anchor that refuses to lift.
IL2H2LU (I Love 2 Hate 2 Love You) crackles with synthpunk intensity, a skeletal electronic dirge driven by subterranean bass. The lead synth, ripped from Suicide’s Ghost Rider, mutates through a Roland SP-404, morphing into a jagged melody. Sushi trudges forward in a claustrophobic haze, each distorted beat a hammer blow against inertia. A spectral voice slithers through static, whispering false freedoms, manufactured choices. Industrial throb and fractured synths—parallels to contemporaries Lana Del Rabies and NIKA—underscore the inescapable, brutal rhythm of illusion.
Vacancy captures the mania and terror of a panic attack, quite literally. A relentless loop of metallic beats and suffocating distortion traps the listener in a claustrophobic spiral. The repetition mimics breathless terror, an unstoppable pulse that pounds like blood against the skull. A voice, fractured and frenzied, pleads for escape while the machinery of despair grinds forward. The tension never breaks—just a relentless echo of fear, looping into oblivion. Finally, 88Lover snakes through the airwaves with a muffled, hypnotic murmur drifting through the still air, weaving between soft synths and the sterile glow of morning light. A question lingers, whispered but insistent—something feels off, something unspoken stirs beneath the surface. The rhythm ticks like a countdown, looping, circling, unraveling. Eighty-eight reasons, eighty-eight voices—each one an echo, a doubt, a ghost that refuses to sleep.
Listen to Death Palmz below and order the album here.
The EP was recorded by Xavier Juarez at Wall Of Fog Studios and released on Mr Pink Records..
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