They say things are always bigger in Texas, and the riffs curated in the Lone StarState are no different.

Rising out of the gulf coast like a horde of villainous, ruinous kaiju, the riffs conjured out of Electric Desert Records Houston headquarters are the kind of caustic, nuclear infused aural onslaughts capable of twisting flesh and warping life into grotesque, malformed atrocities.

These are the sounds of cities being leveled. These are the sounds of entire neighborhoods being wiped off the map.

These are the sounds of speaker cones melting, of power tubes failing, and of the foundations of the very earth crumbling into a fine, powdery dust.