The first thing that might hit you about "Void Pusher" is that you can’t actually hear half of what’s going on. And that’s precisely the point. Point of Memory (PoM) has crafted an album that is, in essence, acoustic computer music designed to mess with your senses. The result? A bizarrely compelling experience that feels like you’re eavesdropping on a conversation between a malfunctioning AI and the ghost of John Cage.

Let’s start with the premise: "Void Pusher" is what happens when you let super-bass frequencies and analog instruments have an all-night brawl in a room filled with acoustic guitars, shakers, and tambourines, and then hit record. The artist statement tells us that the idea was to create something with "human warmth and soul" while embracing Newton's third law of motion. Yes, you read that right — there’s a physics lesson wrapped up in this sonic experiment, as each sound reacts to another, creating a chain of musical cause-and-effect that feels both accidental and meticulously planned.

From the moment “Pro-Dread” opens the album, you’re plunged into a world where sound is both overwhelming and barely there. It’s like standing on the edge of an abyss, feeling the rumble of something massive but not seeing it—an auditory vertigo that sets the tone for the entire record. The sub-bass, which you’re more likely to feel in your bones than hear with your ears, manipulates the acoustic instruments in ways that are unsettling yet fascinating. Bells, snares, and guitars quiver and shake as if haunted, responding to inaudible forces that give the album its eerie, otherworldly vibe.

"Carried by Ravens", we’re told, is the most accessible track on the album—a relative term, to be sure. At just under five minutes, it offers a brief respite from the more chaotic stretches of "Void Pusher". Still, even here, the track is less a song and more a mood—a fleeting moment of melancholy suspended in a sea of sonic debris. It's as if the ravens are carrying not just the song, but the weight of forgotten memories, lost dreams, and the eerie quiet of a deserted city.

The title track, "Void Pusher", embodies the album's core aesthetic: raw, organic sound manipulated through digital cut-ups and live ambient noise, all while maintaining a sense of unpredictability. If there's a track that feels like it's constantly on the verge of tearing itself apart, this is it. It’s a beautiful mess — a cacophony of resonance and dissonance that somehow manages to be both soothing and unsettling. The intention here, as the artist puts it, is to capture "something of the human experience", but what that something is remains tantalizingly out of reach.

"Ballad of Myopic Triviality" stretches out to 13 minutes, and it’s in this expanse that the album’s concept comes fully into view—or rather, into focus. The use of samples, including a NASCAR "crank it up" segment, blends the banal with the profound, making for a listening experience that’s as much about the spaces between sounds as it is about the sounds themselves. This track, more than any other, encapsulates the duality of "Void Pusher": it’s both deeply personal and completely impersonal, a reflection of the artist’s desire to transcend individual emotional states and tap into something universal.

By the time you reach "Stranger With a Sad Heart", a brief yet poignant track, you may find yourself wondering just how PoM managed to wring so much emotion out of what seems like such an abstract, disjointed approach to music-making. And that’s the real triumph of "Void Pusher": despite its conceptual density and experimental leanings, it never loses sight of the human element. It’s an album that challenges you to listen actively, to engage with it on its own terms, and to find the warmth in the subtly expressing chaos.

I'd say this is an album for those who find beauty in broken things, who appreciate the art of noise, and who are willing to follow Point of Memory into the void and back. There’s a certain irony in the fact that an album so steeped in the idea of inaudibility can leave such a lasting impression. But that’s just another layer of what makes "Void Pusher" an unforgettable experience. It’s not easy listening, but then again, who said art should be easy?

Whether you come out the other side with a new appreciation for sub-bass frequencies or simply a lingering sense of unease, one thing’s for sure: you won’t forget "Void Pusher" anytime soon.