Argentine instrumental outfit Monovoth returns with “To live in the Breath of Worship,” an album born from turbulence both personal and political. What began in early 2024 as an exploration of musical evolution became something heavier—a record shaped by wildfire, genocide, and the death of a companion.
Lucas Wyssbrod, the project’s driving force, describes the work as “the most demanding record I’ve made in terms of work and energy. It is also the one that was most consciously thought through and arranged as a whole.” The ambition shows. Where previous releases leaned into doom’s familiar corridors, this one kicks the doors open, pulling in black metal (Krallice, Alcest), dissonant death metal (Gorguts, Ulcerate), experimental noise (Khanate), film score atmospheres, and even Argentine rock influences like Los Redondos.
The concept started with “lonely gods“—deities abandoned in a faithless world. Then reality intervened. “As the album moved toward completion, so much unfolded globally,” Wyssbrod explains, “the genocide of Palestinians in Gaza, ICE, the invasion in Venezuela, and the daily suffering inflicted by Argentina’s president, the advancement of far-right movements.” The loneliness became more literal: gods begging for power, attention, purification. Narcissism writ cosmic.
Midway through finishing the album, Wyssbrod’s dog Sadie died after nine years. She’d been there for the entire life of Monovoth. “A devastating blow,” he says simply, “one I am still trying to process on a daily basis.”
The music reflects this weight without collapsing under it. Opener “From a Dying Star” is the closest thing to traditional Monovoth—doom stretched to its thinnest membrane before breaking into new terrain. “Crimson Red Wound” injects crust and black metal, testing genre limits, closing with an Ebow layer from Kevin Hufnagel (Gorguts, Dysrhythmia) floating over synth melody. “Beg & Burn” erupts through volcanic guest vocals from Andrew Notsch (Manipulator, ex-Sunless) and dissonant death metal solos before landing in a Mars Volta-style rhythmic sprint crowned by dual-guitar harmonies.
“The Fallen” serves as a brief, monolithic breather—a dissonant pause co-composed with Ivo Bisceglia of Ataudes. Then “Cosmically Orphaned” arrives, a song that changed shape multiple times through what Wyssbrod calls “pure luck.” An off-beat doom riff evolved into something cinematic, elevated by a Federico Ramos (Avernal) solo that “took the piece to another level. A great example of how songwriting can sometimes be more about chance than planning.”
Closing track “To Drown in the Tears of God” was ironically the first written—dissonant doom featuring haunting vocals from Martin Passaro, ending in chilling drone and noise. The visual side came via Santiago Caruso, an Argentine surrealist painter Wyssbrod had long wanted to collaborate with. Together they found something that “truly captures the elements of sadness, science fiction, and philosophy that have always accompanied Monovoth on a conceptual level.”
The collaborative nature runs deep. Drummer Martín Visconti brought “a level of variation I hadn’t originally envisioned” that reshaped the final compositions. Sebastián Barrionuevo receives special mention alongside him. Guest spots came from across Argentina’s underground, turning the record into a statement that feels both deeply local and borderless.
That connection to place matters now more than ever. Since January 13, wildfires have torn through Chubut province in Argentina. The government response, according to Wyssbrod, has been silence—no strategy, no resources, no action. In response, all digital sales from January 20 through Bandcamp Friday on February 6 will go toward wildfire relief efforts in Patagonia. This includes the new album’s pre-sale and release earnings.
Wyświetl ten post na Instagramie
“To live in the Breath of Worship” drops February 6 on Bandcamp and streaming platforms. For fans of Amenra, Cult of Luna, Bell Witch, and Primitive Man, this offers something familiar but restless—doom that refuses to stay still, pushing into black metal dissonance, death metal crush, and atmospheric sprawl. It channels the cinematic scope of Godspeed You! Black Emperor and the meditative heft of Yob without mimicking either.
It marks an interesting documentation of a faithless moment, captured by musicians who chose to work through grief. The result feels lived-in and urgent, and sucks you into a vortex of emotions. A record that knows exactly what it’s mourning.
