“IN ALL MY NIGHTMARES I AM ALONE” By Death Soundtrack (Album)

Forged in the mind of Calgary's own “Stephen Moore,” Post Death Soundtrack has dedicated his entire being to succumbing to the deepest voids of humanity’s psyche. His fifth full-length release, “In All My Nightmares I Am Alone,” is a staggering 30-track odyssey of anguish, revelation, surrealism, and raw vulnerability. Drawing on inspiration and trauma over 20 years, this collection of songs, which can be perceived as a double or even triple album, is a relentless self-dismantlement and reinvention steeped in industrial grime, acoustic melancholy, poetic terror, and moments of unexpected serenity. Now available globally on Spotify, YouTube, Apple Music, Bandcamp, and Amazon Music, this release is one of the most independent albums to look out for in 2025.

Moore begins with the piece “TREMENS,” which, both musically and contextually, sets a haunting atmosphere. This composition is more than just a song; it’s a sonic representation of the struggle with Delirium Tremens, a withdrawal syndrome that can be fatal in 15% of cases. This track is pure confrontational hell. It’s terrifying in its unfiltered urgency, pairing industrial noise with raspy, impassioned vocals that sound less like performance and more like survival. Following it, “Good Time Slow Jam (In All My Nightmares I Am Alone)” captures the same manic energy but injects a perverse humor, as if Nine Inch Nails were on a self-destructive spree with the ghost of Kurt Cobain. These two tracks capture the audacious, reckless bravery that defines the album’s core: Moore dares to take you to the corners of the mind that most artists prefer to keep hidden.

“A Monolith of Alarms” operates almost like a mission statement. Fusing dark, anthemic industrial sounds with echoes reminiscent of Front Line Assembly, it is layered with lyrics that convey a philosophical protest. Moore’s voice, part preacher and part casualty, steers for the silent: ‘You see all the voiceless, abandoned and sick... I light the wick.’ It is simultaneously harrowing and oddly hopeful. Likewise, “Venus in Furs,” Moore’s cover of the iconic Velvet Underground track, shifts from dirge to a descent into psychosexual dread. “When the World is Burning Bright” shifts into gothic post-punk, evokes a 3 a.m. fever dream with abstract, intimately familiar yet resistant to literal interpretation, lyrics.

Then comes “Fast Approaching Radiant Light,” which marks a shift from the preceding track, introducing frantic breakbeats and commanding vocals, pace, and panic, all at once. It’s one of the more electronically driven tracks and strongly showcases Moore’s ability to jolt the listener awake. The alertness that comes with the track is sharply contrasted in “Something Stirs,” which draws from childhood ghost stories and Moore’s trauma, including a violent robbery and the strange disappearance of his beloved kittens. The track feels haunted not just in sound but in spirit. “We Fall” is barely over a minute, but it may be one of the most heartbreaking entries, simple, direct, and devastating in its grief. The album becomes self-reflective once more with “Hypnotizer,” a political track that hints at Eastern melodies, reminiscent of Led Zeppelin. The critique offered discusses modern-day illiteracy, not in reading, but in the mediasphere and empathy. Following this is “River Man,” an acoustic cover of a Nick Drake song done in Moore’s apartment in 2010. It is raw and unrefined, which is precisely why it is so powerful. There is a certain delicacy to the take that enhances the sadness in Drake's original.

With “Final Days,” listeners are jolted into a whirlwind of punk and rockabilly chaos in a blend that would be reminiscent of Refused or Swing Kids. “Reckless Fever” and “Surrender” return to a sadness that feels rooted in Leonard Cohen. These songs ache with existential longing and, because of their minimalism, the lyrics paired with Moore’s gentle voice do the heavy lifting. Moore's “Crawling King Snake,” recorded in 2025, pays unpredictable tribute to The Doors and John Lee Hooker with an off-kilter, menacing blend of blues.

He gets complete respect two times in this record, starting with Moore’s reinterpretation of God's Away on Business, which he smartly grooves up instead of mimicking, and then with his new 2025 version of What’s He Building in There. A piece Moore performs with sinister glee, turning suburban suspicion into existential horror. Between the two tracks lies Marrow, which is deeply moving and lesser known, an original that provides connective tissue in the gnarled musical skeleton. Acclaimed pieces like “Oversoul,” “Start This Over,” and “Desert Wind” showcase deeply personal themes. All are near-whispered, recorded with an intimacy that starkly contrasts with the harshness found elsewhere. “Song For Bonzai,” the only instrumental track on the album, serves as an elegy for Moore’s late cat Bonzai. It is delicate and reverent, emotionally raw. This track would stop even the most hardened listeners. It’s these moments that grant balance and keep the album from collapsing under its weight. There is a heart alongside the teeth.

The album features one spiritually crucial but opaque inclusion, “An Anything,” which is a devastating cover of Ryan Smith (or My Arm Is An Ocean). It adds to the album’s narrative that beauty exists in the shadows. “I Would Surmise,” “Control,” “Trigger Finger,” and “White Mare” delve deeper into self-inflicted chaos, and each track is more intense than the last. Although these songs are brief, they are blistering and evoke the sensation of being on the edge in the form of a sonic diary. “Get Your Tickets Ready” and “What Did You Just Call Me?” are harsh bursts of some self-sabotaging duality filled with blame. Eerie resignation captures “Nothing,” while “In All My Nightmares I Am Alone” draws a full circle to the thesis of the album, reflecting profound solitude. This is not a defeatist view; it is, instead, a solemn truth. This track title's repetition acts as a psychological mantra, Moore’s spiritual mark on a deeply personal yet remarkably collective experience.

This is not an album to be enjoyed during a single, light-hearted session. It is more akin to an art installation in musical form, where the listener must traverse through the many rooms of grief, fury, insight, and redemption. While there is no conventional narrative structure, a progression from disorientation to confession, to fleeting tranquility, and back again, is evident. It reflects the continuous cycle of trauma and recovery. There are moments where “In All My Nightmares I Am Alone” threatens to unravel. But that’s precisely the aim. This is music about losing control and, at times, finding it again. The production differs from track to track, reflecting their different ages, some as old as fifteen years, and some recorded only last month. Somehow, these inconsistencies become the album’s strength. The result is a vivid montage of emotional experiences that are more genuine than any polished concept album could ever achieve.

Post Death Soundtrack's latest album, “In All My Nightmares I Am Alone,” can now be streamed globally on Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon Music, YouTube, Tidal, Deezer, and Bandcamp. Moore’s official site and social media also provide access to the project’s back catalog, including the 2024 critically acclaimed Veil Lifter, along with updates on upcoming releases. For the optimal listening experience, the album should be enjoyed in its entirety via headphones and in a quiet environment. This is not background music; rather, it is a psychological excavation. A haunted house with thirty different doors, each leading deeper into the labyrinth of Stephen Moore’s mind.

“In All My Nightmares I Am Alone” captures the complexity of human expression in a raw format. Post Death Soundtrack does not shy away from the public gaze as it unapologetically charges towards industrial rage, acoustic sorrow, or avant-garde absurdity. Each genre feels encapsulated in this single body of work that is sure to evoke deep emotion. In an industry obsessed with singles and trends, Moore manages to share a deeply human statement that is fractured, furious, and profound. This isn’t an album for everyone, and that is its greatest appeal. For those who choose to accept the invitation, they will be met with unexpectedly beautiful nightmares paired with a form of strange salvation. Shout-out to Stephen Moore for forging ahead with truth in a world increasingly dominated by artifice. “In All My Nightmares I Am Alone” is a masterclass in vulnerability and a landmark independent release in 2025.

Written by Manuel