Cognitive Dissonance

by Pure Evil Trio

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    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Includes a bonus home demo of a new song (utilising a table as a kick drum) and a pdf replication of the cover and interior artwork.

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Available on 8inch vinyl.


released February 20, 2013

Az - Guitar/Vocals,
Abel - Bass/Vocals
John - Drums/Cymbals.

Music recorded by Lachlan "Shithawk" Vercoe at Maggotville, June 2007. Vocals recorded/post-production by Aaron "Idiot" Clarke, 2008-10. Digital transfer/mixing assistance/general badarsery by Fred "Sonic Jesus" Rodrigues. Mastered by James Plotkin/Plotkinworks, 2012.

Vinyl released by Spin Control / Flip to Presant / We Empty Rooms, 2013.




Pure Evil Trio Australia

Born of colliding chaos and the noise of the raging elements.

Dead from the neck down, October 2014.

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Track Name: Machinations
The sex shops are blaring "I Wanna Know What Love Is", and the cops are laughing fit to bust, cuz they found love and beat it to death with clubs. They don't have a fucking care in the fucking world. It's an ugly city tonight, and we're getting fucked up. Torrents of piss on all we know. We never find peace in who we are. We're getting stabbed in the back by our own arms. No light. No hope. The savage fury of untamed concrete. Watch it churn. Let it burn. Because decay is a growth industry and everyone I know has a graduate diploma in fear, but they're all too shit-scared to fucking look at it. Look at it! There is no hope here. Just shitting and shopping. Coffee or meth. Death. Drenched in communion whine, we become everything that we hate. Our tragedies cycle through and oscillate, helpless in the face of machinations.
Track Name: Pattern Recognition
I wanna build an underland where all my dreams and all my fears are. I wanna live in wonderland, the looking glass where all my dreams are bloodshot and beautiful. Rife with disease. Stained with the ennui of life on your knees. Skin looks like plastic. Coin-slots for eyes. Drop in a penny and watch me dancing. Have you heard about the end? It's coming, it's coming, it's coming... It's here! And it's gone. March on. (Archetype) I wanna break this plastic mold. (Artifice) These constructed patterns of recognition and submission, tied to the tracks with a train bearing down. No way to move! Luxuriously farted, revelled in the smell of my own insides, making me feel real. I'm scared of people who look like they were grown in a vat, raised by a robot, stamped with a logo and turned loose on an unsuspecting world filled with morons who believe everything they're told. Or sold. And it's all fucking bought and sold. This blood we bleed is all we've got, and nothing will cover the sore. Down on knees, it's fucking gone. Lies all that's left now. A priest speaks, blah blah blah, and hands us the cross that we suffer. Plant us in a garden of ruin and let us grow...
Track Name: The Hand That Holds You Down
The humanoid conditioning; be a robot. Do not know yourself or think to find out. "There are universes begging for gods, yet he hangs around this one begging for work." Hahaha... Cosmic blackout, a cognitive abyss of unimaginable density. Close your eyes and step off the edge of everything you ever believed in. You're still here. The hand that holds you down is your own. Down by your own hand. No-one said it'd be easy, but at least you're not the Great Auk. Hunted. Imprisoned. Tried for witchcraft. Tortured and finally executed. Beaten to death. EXTINCT. Walk a tightrope. Pay the hangman. Glorious dissolution! Meaning in decay. Nonsense in the rationale. Be well...