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Golden Dirges, Molten Larynges

by Lung Knots

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Lorenzo thumbnail
Lorenzo Chaotic, terror filled industrial noise / power electronics masterfully mixed with black / metal metal. Dreadful and claustrophobic, like an impending wave of asphyxiation, each track morphs and swirls with layers of caustic electronics and oppressive aggression. The moments of quiter clarity in between louder portions create a startling contrast, and make those louder aspects all the more disgusting and complex in their heft.
Grant Babb
Grant Babb thumbnail
Grant Babb Listened to this one a few times this week. Both unique and inspiring. I like the chaos and intentionality of it at the same time. Listening to this drives you into the studio with new ideas.
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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

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    Edition of 150 copies on black and white marbled vinyl

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Professionally manufactured in 6 panel lancing packaging.


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  • Limited Edition Cassette
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Void Hymnal 05:34
I bare the sickness that flares unfettered in the cesspit sedimented with furor and grief. Smile as a burning incense to cloak the stench. Svelte phrases reside one word away from an atrocious revelation. A larynx matted with a spike strip to at least make the fleeing voices severely bleed. An armored thorax. A bulwark of woe and guilt to guard the wilting black hearts. Our mouths are gagged with coils of thistles to keep our dreads unspoken. Our hands are tied with thick layers of nylon to keep our bodies unbroken.
Devour their bodies saturated with brine. Their limbs gnawed by the canine teeth. Their souls pass through the gastric acid. Dissolved in atropine, dispersed through atrophy. Slivered bones spat out like an excess grit. A flight of splinters to the eye of god. An expression of the black mire of man's prevailing abyss taking a carnal form. A mountain of hidden ache and filth in motion. Devour their bodies saturated with brine. A mountain of hidden ache and filth.
Cessation 03:01
The womb echoes in drought like an arid well. The last fiery serpents of a divine inheritance dispatched lifetimes ago. Seeking to slither back into the torn and tepid hole. Longing for its warmth. A silver cunt on an ivory pedestal. Embalmed with myrrh and frankinscence. A callous vestige of trifling significance. As the lustre dims, the moribund aperture breaks. Break and ascend. Break and ascend.
The halos above their wavering heads are torrid. Bawling as the patrons' eyes glimmer in lust. The space between their nails and fingers is pound shut with acerbic splinters. Howling as the saints hover within an arms length. There is no one coming to aid. There is no one left to empathize with the hanging. The sores unite to form a grand abscess. The bodies merge into one lump of soggy flesh devoid of breath and character. Hand in hand, leg in leg, bone in bone. Parched by the sun, polished with an oily torch held by a child. The robes once glazed with the tears and pulverized innocence are now only molten relics conjoining with their holders. Hand in hand, leg in leg, bone in bone. There is no one coming to aid.
My face is spited by shards constructed of a thousand broken mirrors each reflecting a luminous being of false hope. Each smile is ground to grit and each gleam of joy is smothered with a stained quilt weighed with the burden of violently shattered dreams. Each teeth is pulled out separately as well as each eye is gouged out one before the other. Rapid bleeding from the mouth and sockets, and the once gravid voice is reduced to a rattling mutter. A rattling mutter yearning for the warm flow of words now ceased forever and buried under the image of atrophy.
Rain fire and woe upon us. Flood the deserts, dry the oceans. Ransack the temples and torch to ash the books of the illiterate. Smudge the face of your creator with the shit of its progeny. Reduce the rich into atoms. Arouse the poor with hope and abrogate them once they've gained enough strength to stand. Break down these shriveled pillars of hair and skin. Rain fire and woe upon us. Be our image.
This body is merely a husk. A cloak of ashen skin. Burnt strokes across the spine whetted with a molten iron rod. Cuffs gnawing my bare carpal bones. Abrasions and open wounds pose a pattern appearing as a sprawling thicket. Lashes mellowing a rigid canvas. A caged, worthless brute captured by the hands of a man drenched in horrid pleasure. The sacred seed flows through my sore cavities as a vigorous stream. Branded as a desirable object with no other value than to unwillingly please. The holes become dry. The soul submits to an abiding drought. Extirpating the thicket to reach the deepest layer of this mound of limp flesh.
I kneel as I choke, and murmur. Low hum inflicting an internal tremor. I quiver. My throat flutters as the poles are being potently thrust in. The tendrils inflate my lungs, humid sacks forming a home for the parasites to effervescently breed and to subjugate the host. Embark the horrid motions leading to the omission of a life. My thoughts are not mine. My voice is not mine. After one last desperate howl for help, I leave this world twitching.



Vinyl released by Tartarus Records

Cassettes co-released with Total Dissonance Worship (

Lung Knots is a vessel of auditory violence whose sole purpose is to exist in this place and moment in time. It is an overwhelming form of aural terror conveyed through primal and mechanical means, conjoining visceral matter of an organic origin with that of an abiotic one. These together fabricate an entity focused on the seething aspects of interminable dread and the humiliation of flesh. Lung Knots' essence can be summed up as the channelling of hate and disgust towards man and its progeny, and the very construct of humanity in its current, turbulent state, by weaving together textures that vary from harsh noise to black metal and carefully crafted sound design-like sonical scapes, and everything falling in between. The territory from where these scraps are gathered is a profound, hopeless, and lightless hole, familiar to every single being in one sense or another.

'Golden Dirges, Molten Larynges' is a meditative work uniting the mentioned stylistical leanings by methodical yet momentarily improvised, and above all, uncompromising means. While the instrumental execution is composed and executed with precision, the vocal and lyric territory is delivered in the heat of the moment, to denote the raw emotion and agony in as primitive manner as possible. The result is a rewarding and enjoyable effort in a rather grotesque sense, as while the atmosphere is highly tangible and immersive, it's equally painful and unpleasant to take in.


released February 12, 2021

All noise and visuals by Lung Knots
Mastering and additional mixing by Samuel Vaney at Lead & Sulfur studio


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Meditations in noise

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