Desolate by Tarrare: A Sonic Wrecking Ball That Demands Your Attention
If you’re into music that punches you in the gut and leaves you questioning your sanity, Desolate by Tarrare is the album for you. Released back in 2014 under no label (yeah, DIY all the way), this U.S.-spawned beast of a record dives headfirst into Metalcore and Experimental Rock with enough chaos to make your ears bleed—but in a good way. With Adam DeFranco on guitar, Paul Kahan screaming his lungs out, and Steve Perrino behind the production desk, it’s raw, unfiltered, and brutally honest.
Now, let’s cut to the chase—this isn’t some polished mainstream mess trying to sell you dreams. This is a sonic assault that feels like getting hit by a truck while someone plays air-raid sirens in the background. Tracks like “Cotard’s Syndrome” and “The Cobra Effect” stick with you because they don’t just sit there; they claw at your brain until you can’t ignore them anymore.
“Cotard’s Syndrome” kicks things off with a riff so sharp it could slice steel. The vocals? Pure venom. It’s got this eerie vibe, like someone whispering your darkest secrets into your ear before exploding into an all-out warzone of sound. And then there’s the instrumental version later in the album—it strips everything down and shows you the skeleton beneath the flesh. Same song, totally different monster. You remember it because it doesn’t just play—it haunts you.
Then you’ve got “The Cobra Effect,” which hits harder than a drunk bouncer. The track’s got groove, grit, and a breakdown so nasty it’ll have you throwing furniture around the room. When it flips into its instrumental counterpart, it transforms again, showcasing how versatile these guys are without losing an ounce of aggression. It’s not just noise—it’s calculated chaos.
And hey, props to whoever decided to slap three versions of “Cotard’s Syndrome” onto one album. Some might call it overkill, but honestly? It works. Each take brings something new to the table, keeping you hooked even after multiple listens.
But here’s the kicker—listening to Desolate feels less like entertainment and more like therapy for people who hate themselves a little too much. It’s messy, exhausting, and kinda brilliant. By the time you hit “The Observatory,” you start wondering if Tarrare knew exactly what kind of emotional car crash they were creating—or if they were just as lost as we are listening to it.
So yeah, give Desolate a spin if you want music that doesn’t hold your hand. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when it screws with your head. Oh, and fun fact: I once heard a rumor that Paul Kahan wrote half these lyrics while sleep-deprived. Sounds about right.
