Suche:cryptic hatred

Cryptic Hatred was formed in 2019 by four friends bound together by their mutual passion for music and death metal. In summer 2020 they quickly released their first demo Free from the Grave to positive international feedback. The demo then received a CD release from the US-based Desert Wastelands label, as well as a release in Europe via Finland-based The Other Records. Soon after, the debut album Nocturnal Sickness dropped in early 2022 (again via The Other and Desert Wastelands), elevating the band to even greater standing in the global death metal underground. The feedback was overwhelmingly positive from both the fans and the metal media, highlighting the leaps the band made in terms of both musicianship and songwriting. Nocturnal Sickness sold over 1000 physical copies and streamed over 100 000, with high praise coming from metal press (such as the esteemed US metal magazine Decibel). The songs on Nocturnal Sickness were notably in the vein of classic Florida death metal - but it also had moments of unhinged melody and savagery which highlighted the band's movement towards their own, identifiable sound. "Internal Torment" is a testament to Cryptic Hatred's ability to craft music that speaks to the soul. It is an invitation to explore the shadows within, to confront the demons that lurk in the recesses of the mind. With each listen, new revelations await, making this album a haunting journey of self-discovery. Prepare to be spellbound by the subtle intricacies of "Internal Torment," as Cryptic Hatred invites you to lose yourself in the haunting beauty of their mesmerizing cryptic metal sound.

SPICE singer Ross Farrar speaks of the band’s ambition to forge a sort of aesthetic patois: a mode of expression as strikingly regional as it is recognizable. Last year’s self-titled debut, released in the depths of the pandemic, fully achieved this goal, distilling decades of North Bay punk and post-hardcore into an urgent, artful set of emotive unrest. Their latest single, A Better Treatment b/w Everyone Gets In, further refines the group’s singular mix of weathered melody and abrasive poetics, equal parts bracing, bruised, and cryptic.

“A Better Treatment” began as a song about a friend who died but through the turmoil of collaboration transformed into something more macroscopic and opaque, blurring the boundary between hopeful and defeated (“I thought loving someone would cure my self-hatred”). Bass and drums build against walls of guitar while the violin threads its own melancholy within the noise; Farrar is blunt about the intention: “The violin is an instrument of death you know.”



“Everyone Gets In” is both poppier and more pained, an anthem for angst aging into the reverie of regret: “We lose our strength / along the way / we lose each other / the funeral sways.” The tempo sways too, gradually slowing to an anxious crawl before finally revving back into a storm of shimmering guitar and splashing drums, fighting against the dying of the light. It’s music of raw truths and
rejected pedestals, storied but unswerving, a revolt against the great regress: “and my / my time is spent / adoring seasons / that I / I never should’ve.”

SPICE singer Ross Farrar speaks of the band’s ambition to forge a sort of aesthetic patois: a mode of expression as strikingly regional as it is recognizable. Last year’s self-titled debut, released in the depths of the pandemic, fully achieved this goal, distilling decades of North Bay punk and post-hardcore into an urgent, artful set of emotive unrest. Their latest single, A Better Treatment b/w Everyone Gets In, further refines the group’s singular mix of weathered melody and abrasive poetics, equal parts bracing, bruised, and cryptic.

“A Better Treatment” began as a song about a friend who died but through the turmoil of collaboration transformed into something more macroscopic and opaque, blurring the boundary between hopeful and defeated (“I thought loving someone would cure my self-hatred”). Bass and drums build against walls of guitar while the violin threads its own melancholy within the noise; Farrar is blunt about the intention: “The violin is an instrument of death you know.”



“Everyone Gets In” is both poppier and more pained, an anthem for angst aging into the reverie of regret: “We lose our strength / along the way / we lose each other / the funeral sways.” The tempo sways too, gradually slowing to an anxious crawl before finally revving back into a storm of shimmering guitar and splashing drums, fighting against the dying of the light. It’s music of raw truths and
rejected pedestals, storied but unswerving, a revolt against the great regress: “and my / my time is spent / adoring seasons / that I / I never should’ve.”