#zabus

Jeremy Moore runs Saccharine Underground out of Washington D.C., and Avoidance Moon — the seventh Zabus full-length, out February 24 — arrives at a moment when the city itself feels occupied. The album channels that pressure without becoming a document of it. Moore shifts between male, female, and non-binary lyrical voices across the record, treating identity as a site of ongoing conflict rather than a fixed position. The “Moon” in the title maps a state of consciousness, not a place.

The production leans hard into vintage equipment and its imperfections — deliberate, unhinged, immediate. Melodies veer off-axis. Song structures resist resolution. “Burst Oppression” moves with the coiled energy of someone who has already decided to act. Moore’s earlier Zabus records processed grief after his father’s death; this one processes rage at a world moving backward. The two feelings share a frequency.

From Washington D.C.'s Saccharine Underground emerges Zabus, Jeremy Moore's avant-garde excavation of mortality and meaning. The Shadow Genesis EP arrives like a transmission from the underworld, where psychedelic post-punk meets existential dread in five movements toward inevitable darkness.

"Grafhysi Fyrir Alla"—Icelandic for "tombstone for everyone"—opens with Moore's vocals tumbling from turgid shadows, where synths and guitars lurk in dissonant conspiracy. The track envelopes listeners in the forever that is the grave, unsteady echoes pouring forth like water through cemetery soil. This is democracy of death, where every soul receives equal burial.

"Orphalese" draws from Khalil Gibran's fictional city in The Prophet, transforming literary mysticism into musical dynamism. The drums tap out humanity's fall into mediocrity while Moore's vocals exude richness against the surrender to complacency. Here lies the tension between holding core beliefs and giving in to whatever comes—a battle fought in 4/4 time.

"Tearful Symmetries" emerges as the EP's death knell, psychedelic weight pressing down like Morrison's ghost channeling through Moore's throat. This could be The Doors' "The End" reborn for the digital age, where Moore becomes the morose prophet singing odes to inevitable demise. The track builds like approaching storm clouds, heavy with portent.

"Golden-rot" unleashes cacophony—sweeping gothic rock laying waste to consciousness while guitars wail as focal points, flooding senses with overwhelming portent. Moore's vocals roil deep and powerful, carrying the weight of internal decay. The music speaks of dying inside while still breathing, of golden surfaces hiding putrid cores.

The title track strips everything to essentials: Moore alone with guitar, southern gothic style, unwilling to leave town for the last time. The reaper allows no room for desire or want—only the stark reality of departure. This is minimalism as funeral rite, where less becomes infinitely more.

Moore's own words illuminate the darkness: "Psychopathologies like body dysmorphic disorder, at the extreme, can lead to a path of ruin, if most of your life is spent chasing a ghost—what you believe the world wants you to be. Death doesn't discriminate. The end is always the same."

Yet Shadow Genesis transcends mere morbidity. This is about choosing how to meet the end—cowering or standing tall, whimpering or singing. Gibran's The Prophet speaks of humanity's shortcomings while illuminating life's beauty when we treasure love, life, and freedom. Zabus offers glimpses into their forthcoming album through this EP, thought-provoking and eerily wonderful in that distinctly dark way.

In the shadow genesis, we find the birth of endings—and in those endings, perhaps, the seeds of something eternal.