(your) revenge is my purpose
(my) revenge is my faith
gunshot wounds are my stigma
I’m a man-made god of hate
Redeye Black Tears (REBT) rises from the depths of Budapest, Hungary; a dark alternative studio project built on the bones of lament and the echoes of forgotten hymns. Drawing from the thunderous weight of The Sisters of Mercy, the soaring grandeur of The Mission, and the apocalyptic reverence of Fields of the Nephilim, their debut, Cuddling Monsters, unfurls with brooding intensity: the alchemy of atmospheric sound design colliding with guitars sharpened like obsidian.
The album’s nine tracks claw at the heart’s rawest places—love turned brittle, loss etched in stone, betrayal whispered through clenched teeth. Here, disappointment festers; wars grind on without end; the world, rotting at the roots, stumbles toward its ruin. REBT threads its sorrow through the reel of Hollywood, through ancient rituals and forgotten prayers; the Hurrian hymn to Nikkal hums beneath the surface, a ghostly echo of devotion and despair in a world forever crumbling.
“I am a glass-half-full person, albeit with a lifelong curiosity to explore the empty and the dark,” says band leader Zoltan Kurali. “It is still a humanist record, and it’s a melodic record, with hope and beauty shining through the arrangements and sonic landscapes.
The album opens with the poetic The Man of Many Hearts. There’s exhaustion in the weight of endless cycles; rushing forward, yet circling back. Fortune favors the unaware, while a familiar figure, fractured yet returning, steps once more into the night. It’s a meditation on fate, recurrence, and quiet resignation Next comes Dirt of Man. The lyrics paint a dystopian lament, a desperate escape from a world suffocating in artificiality and decay. The speaker flees to a quiet, unfamiliar place, leaving behind remnants of lost beauty. Humanity spirals, consumed by unchecked progress, blind obedience, and mass-produced truths. The earth festers, demanding cleansing rain, but freedom feels distant, buried beneath illusion, pride, and a thousand shattered dreams.
The Sand of Canaan unfolds like a scorched prayer, a lament buried beneath burning sand and blood-stained hands. Promises of paradise crumble into hell, where faith curdles into vengeance and wounds become sacred marks of wrath. A martyr is made, not by divinity but by destruction. Crawling through the dirt, the speaker watches life slip away, torching the Garden with their final breath. Dark Matters drifts through cosmic isolation, a restless search for meaning amid the fear of being reduced to fragments. Dreams of escape unravel into a journey beyond time, where distance tears souls apart. A celestial figure shines in the crowd, unreachable yet enthralling. Betrayal lingers, deception reigns, and sacrifice becomes inevitable. Each step forward feels like a descent, a slow march into darkness, where farewells sting sharper than damnation.
Goodbye, Slave unfolds like a solemn farewell, a dirge for lost faith and fractured souls. Surrounded by friends and foes alike, the search for salvation yields no cure. Sacrifice becomes duty, suffering an expectation. A sun dancer endures torment in pursuit of balance, yet even at their funeral, the weight of ritual persists. Thieves and priests stand side by side, reciting empty prayers, as the inevitable failure of it all is quietly observed, endured, and left to fade .
An eerie devotion is conjured in Baby Chaos: a binding spell woven in pain and desire. A spectral figure moves against a stark horizon, her words seeping deep like venom. Faith is tested, pain embraced, and fate surrendered. Love becomes chains, worship becomes sacrifice, and the dream lingers—never ending, never letting go. Reunion paints a bleak reflection on lost potential, fading dreams, and the slow erosion of purpose. Life moves forward without direction, where faith and love become illusions, and unseen forces shape a world of quiet resignation. In the end, prayers go unanswered, freedom remains unfought, and ignorance offers the only comfort.
Moondust Silver echoes the doomed allure of The Hunger (1983), where beauty fades, time devours, and desire bleeds into decay. Passion and betrayal intertwine—a whispered lie, a final deception. Flesh withers beneath the weight of immortality’s curse, silver tarnishes, and ritual becomes a cruel cycle of longing, death, and quiet resignation. Finally, the looming What Is To Come distills power and submission into stark absolutes—those who plead, those who command, and the faceless force that binds them. Fate is dictated from above, justice bends to the will of the mighty, and the Leviathan looms, a silent enforcer of order, indifferent to suffering, absolute in control.
Listen to Cuddling Monsters at the link below, and purchase the album here.
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