"Eden to Abyss" marks Mindless Faith's sixth full length CD. Their triple-distilled, aggressive sound produces anthems that go from chants to wails, whispers to growls, with some stunning guest female vocalists. The lyrics are crafted to provoke some critical thought, while an infectious mix of synths and grinding guitars converge with a core of rocking beats and throbbing bass. Pushing far beyond any stereotypical industrial sound, Mindless Faith infuses their songs with occasional elements of hip-hop, acoustic guitar, reggae-dub, trip-hop, and a rare glimpse of 1940's big band and 1970's funk. While strange on paper, these ingredients come together to great effect and enhance the themes of each song.
Hitting hard and never letting go, track one: “Devil May Care” takes aim at anyone who might try and deceive us from the truth, including ourselves and our stories of origination and destiny. Faith is full of holes and existence is a harrowing journey. And that’s just track one. Every day is a fight in “Shit Show” and the anti-war barrage of “Red Halos” reminds us that you can’t even trust the guy singing your Christmas carols. The propaganda machine grinds us down until we’re all cheerleaders for their team. And, whatever you think you’ve won, it’s just a ticking red clock with a few seconds on in “Hollow Victory.” After a metaphysical ride up to the “13th Floor,” we are collected from the curb during “Leachate” to take a deep breath down at the landfill, where all of our waste lingers on long after the last pillars fall. In “The Fluffer,” love is for sale but out of stock down in the valley of Hollywood. “Dead Inside” does what it says on the tin. “Deaf to Defeat” is a dream-like feedback loop, where you realize your irrelevance but still imagine otherwise. And completing the long arc from where we started in ‘the garden’, our environmental degradation invites the reckoning in “Minerals” as we dissolve into the immeasurable depths of oblivion. How’s that for a happy ending? “Eden to Abyss” lets no one off the hook. In the end, you’ll be there dancing with us, or trampled beneath our feet.