Recommended tracks: “Hey, Sinner,” “Sacrifice”
Artists you may like: The Psychodelics Trips, Chrome Coda, faeryu
CARRIE ABYSS returns with Hey, Sinner, a four–track concept EP that feels less like a collection of songs and more like a descent. It is an unsettling, beautiful world built from industrial pulses, ritualistic rhythms and layered vocals that twist like smoke. The result is a record that plays with mythology, divinity and feminine rage in equal measure.
The title track, “Hey, Sinner,” opens the door with a jolt. The voice of God booms through a landscape of metallic percussion and electronic tension while a young woman is condemned for her sins. It feels theatrical and punishing, like the opening scene of a dark opera. The production is sharp, mechanical, and alive with religious dread.
“Seraphim” follows with a different kind of intensity. The song calls to six-winged angels who glow but do not feel. CARRIE’s vocals are mournful and intimate, carrying the heartbreak of asking for mercy from beings incapable of giving it. The track is glowing and ghostly, a hymn caught between faith and futility. Its choral elements and pulsing electronics make it one of the EP’s emotional peaks.
“Sacrifice” erupts with a feverish urgency. It channels the chaos of witch hunts and the cruelty of crowds who cling to righteousness while destroying the innocent. The drums are frantic, almost tribal, while the vocals sharpen into something close to fury. It is the EP’s most visceral track, a sprint through fear, judgement and resistance.
The closer, “Father, Forgive Me,” is the record’s confession and its release. Built around CARRIE’s own voice, layered and spectral, it feels like a private prayer said out loud. The instrumentation breathes around her, minimal but consuming. The song turns survival into something sacred, finding freedom in the one place she was never meant to look. It is tender, eerie, and quietly triumphant.
Across all four tracks, the narrative rises from Assyrian symbols, religious stories and personal wounds, yet the production places it firmly in a modern, industrial world. It is pop, but sharpened. It is electronic music, but spiritual. It is myth, but painfully human.
CARRIE ABYSS has created an EP that examines sin not as a crime but as a curse placed upon women by the societies that fear them. What emerges is a dark, defiant ritual. A reclamation. A whispered rebellion turned into sound.
