Pamelekerk by Death In Poestem: A Sonic Wreck You Can’t Unhear
Alright, buckle up, because Pamelekerk by Death In Poestem is not your grandma’s playlist unless your grandma’s into ear-shredding noise and industrial chaos. Released in 2018 via the delightfully mysterious Anoniem Vlaams label, this Belgian beast of an album dives headfirst into the grimy waters of power electronics, field recordings, and just straight-up auditory assault. It’s raw, unfiltered, and kinda feels like being trapped in a haunted factory—except you’re not sure if you want to leave.
Let’s zoom in on two tracks that’ll stick to your brain like gum under a church pew: BALEGEMSE ZANDSTEEN and LIVE IN PAMELE KERK. Spoiler alert: they’re both wild rides, but for very different reasons.
First up, BALEGEMSE ZANDSTEEN. This one hits you like a shovel wrapped in barbed wire. The track starts off with what sounds like distorted machinery revving up while someone’s mic’d chewing gravel. But then BAM—it shifts into this relentless wave of static and feedback that feels like it’s crawling inside your skull. I mean, it’s abrasive as hell, but there’s something oddly hypnotic about it too. Like, you hate it, but you can’t stop listening. It’s the kind of sound that makes you question whether you’ve accidentally tuned into some secret broadcast from another dimension—or maybe just a really bad day at a construction site. Either way, it’s unforgettable.
Then there’s LIVE IN PAMELE KERK, which is basically the audio equivalent of walking into a gothic cathedral only to find out it’s doubling as a rave for angry ghosts. There are layers upon layers here—echoey drones, metallic clangs, and these eerie field recordings that feel like whispers from the abyss. At times, it almost sounds like actual voices trying to break through the cacophony, but you can never quite make them out. Is it haunting? Yeah. Is it kinda genius? Absolutely. Listening to this track feels like stumbling across an ancient ritual you weren’t invited to—but now you’re part of it, whether you like it or not.
What’s wild about Pamelekerk is how unapologetically messy it is. There’s no sugarcoating, no attempt to smooth over the rough edges. It’s like Death In Poestem looked at traditional music structure, laughed maniacally, and decided to set it on fire instead. And honestly? That’s what makes it so damn compelling. This isn’t background music—it demands your attention, even when you’re begging for mercy.
So yeah, Pamelekerk won’t be everyone’s cup of tea (or coffee… or whatever beverage you sip while pretending to understand avant-garde art). But if you’re into stuff that challenges your ears and messes with your mind, this album might just become your new favorite form of self-torture. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Oh, and here’s a random thought to leave you with: If aliens ever invade Earth and need proof we’re capable of creating pure sonic chaos, let’s just hand them a copy of this album. They’ll either bow down or run screaming back to their spaceship. Either way, job done.
