Larmo's "Alarm" arrives like a drill to the temple... it's an industrial behemoth that stomps across the soundscape with the subtlety of a bulldozer, all jagged edges and pounding intensity. If you were expecting a soothing auditory experience, you’ve wandered into the wrong bunker.

The album’s title track, “Alarm”, wastes no time getting down to business. The opening seconds are like a klaxon blaring in a dystopian factory, setting the tone for the mechanical hellscape that follows. Larmo (real name: Miroslaw Matyasik) doesn’t just dabble in industrial noise; he thrives in it, bending harsh electronic textures to his will with a precision that’s both brutal and hypnotic. The beats here aren’t just heavy — they’re seismic, shaking the very ground on which your sanity stands.

There’s an undeniable beauty in the chaos, though. "Alarm" isn’t just about bombarding you with noise; it’s about constructing a world out of that noise — a world where every rusted gear and screeching piston has its place. Tracks like “Grit” and “TECH (NIC)” are masterclasses in controlled demolition, each one an intricate lattice of abrasive sounds that somehow coalesce into a coherent, if punishing, whole.

But just when you think you’ve got Larmo figured out, he pulls a fast one. “N.B x N.N.”, featuring Gosia, injects a haunting human element into the mix, with her vocals cutting through the mechanized backdrop like a ghost in the machine. It’s a moment of unexpected vulnerability, a fleeting glimpse of humanity before the noise swallows you whole again. And then there’s “Gnat”, where Paula’s contributions lend the track a frenetic energy, as if the machinery is starting to malfunction, spiraling out of control.

Larmo isn’t shy about his influences, drawing freely from the worlds of illbient, techno, and even bass music to forge his own brand of industrial warfare. But unlike many of his contemporaries, who often get lost in their own self-indulgence, Larmo’s compositions are tight, purposeful, and — dare I say — catchy in their own twisted way. The rhythm in “Komunikat” is almost danceable, if you’re the kind of person who likes to dance on the ruins of civilization.

Then there’s the Monya remix of “Flat Breath”, which closes the album with a sense of finality. It sounds like a reinvention of the original track, stripping the track down to its raw essence and building it back up with layers of pulsating bass and reverberating echoes. The remix manages to be both more expansive and more claustrophobic than its predecessor, a fitting end to an album that never stops pushing boundaries.

Comparisons to industrial heavyweights like Skinny Puppy or Nine Inch Nails are inevitable, but Larmo carves out his own niche within the genre. Where those bands often explore the dark corners of the human psyche, Larmo seems more interested in the intersection of man and machine—what happens when the lines blur, when the human element is subsumed by the relentless march of technology.

And yet, for all its aggression, "Alarm" is surprisingly accessible. There’s a clarity to the production, a sharpness that cuts through the noise and makes each track stand out in stark relief. It’s as if Larmo is inviting you to peer into the machinery, to marvel at its complexity even as it grinds you down.