On Floodplain Canticles, the latest release from Washington D.C.’s avant-garde post-punk collective Zabus, the listener is invited into a space that is as unsettling as it is meditative. Out now via Saccharine Underground, the album continues founder Jeremy Moore‘s longstanding exploration of grief, spiritual evolution, and psychological introspection through a dense, genre-defiant sound.
Zabus emerged in 2023 as a natural progression of Moore’s previous musical efforts, including projects like Thee Rise Ov Sadistic Youth, Zero Swann, and Gorazde. Formed as a collective rather than a fixed band, Zabus draws on a rotating lineup of collaborators, bringing together elements of dark ambient, gothic rock, free improvisation, and experimental psychedelia. The group’s ethos centers on shedding material identity and embracing spiritual growth—concepts deeply embedded in both their lyrical and sonic landscapes.
Where 2024’s Automatic Writhing offered a chaotic and layered meditation on spiritual disconnection and virtual escapism, Floodplain Canticles pushes further into abstraction and existential reflection. The result is a soundscape that leans heavily into atmospheric tension and emotional weight. While not easily classifiable, the album loosely connects with touchpoints like Velvet Underground’s darker material, especially in its hypnotic pacing and shadowed textures.
Tracks unfold with deliberate pacing and unfiltered emotion. Synth-heavy drones, skeletal basslines, and dissonant guitar lines are accompanied by sparse but emotionally loaded vocals from Moore, whose delivery seems to act more as incantation than narration. The overall tone is bleak but contemplative—less a wall of sound than a porous membrane between consciousness and dreamstate.
Zabus’ influences range widely—from post-punk stalwarts like Joy Division and Bauhaus to the industrial introspection of Nine Inch Nails and the ambient textures of modern acts like DIIV and Xui Zui. Yet despite the presence of familiar sonic elements, Floodplain Canticles often avoids conventional song structures in favor of immersive, evolving compositions that feel more like guided meditations than traditional tracks.
Lyrically, the album is preoccupied with humanity’s trajectory in the face of technological alienation and spiritual decay. Thematically, it takes on big-picture concerns: death, grief, collective trauma, and the consequences of disengagement from authentic self-exploration. Rather than offering clear resolutions, the music holds space for reflection, framing dystopia not as an inevitability, but as a consequence of conscious choice.
Despite—or perhaps because of—its heavy subject matter, Floodplain Canticles is not without moments of resonance and release. While the album may challenge listeners seeking melody-driven or genre-faithful experiences, those open to an abstract journey may find it a compelling opportunity to engage with the darker undercurrents of contemporary existence.
Ultimately, Zabus isn’t offering easy answers or cathartic climaxes. With Floodplain Canticles, the collective provides a mirror—clouded, cracked, and reflective of the psyche in flux. It’s not a comfortable listen, but it is a purposeful one.