Scarlet Locust of These Columns [CS; Hospital]

Going out on a limb here; the only reason Lussuria has not completely blown up is the undoubtedly calculated fact that most of his releases are limited to less than 50 copies. In a world where “ambient” music on cassette has become ubiquitous, Jim Mroz’s music manages to steadfastly cling to a self-hewn niche in soundtracking the cobwebbed backwoods of dreams.

On his (technically second) newest release he does away with the walls of bass-heavy electronics that characterized the now classic American Babylon and settles into crafting tangled thickets of melodic unease with a closet-full of esoteric instrumentation. Chant bowls, dry ice, field recordings and something called a skull damaru are alchemically mixed to produce the sort of sounds that will make hairs stand on end on a warm Saturday afternoon. It’s not “scary” music per se, just intensely unsettling; colonizing your brain with thoughts of empty woods at dusk, finding yourself suddenly alone in a remote and musty smelling part of the library, or that time you explored the church basement alone one night. Lussuria walks a fine line between serenity and dread with precision and care; never falling to close to one before gently dipping back towards the other.


Cerberus seeks to document the spate of home recorders and backyard labels pressing limited-run LPs, 7-inches, cassettes, and objet d’art with unique packaging and unknown sound. We love everything about the overlooked or unappreciated. If you feel you fit such a category, email us here.

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