Death and War Lose It All
It Falls Into Human Force
The latest Buzz Kull single, Human Force, taken from the EP Deep Hate, is an atmospheric synth banger that moves with a hard, locked gait, all chrome nerves and club-floor fatalism. And that has always been one of Australian musician Marc Dwyer’s strengths. Since 2012, he has been building this severe style out of minimal synth, darkwave, and industrial dance music, but what keeps Buzz Kull from turning into mere scene exercise is the way he locates real psychic abrasion inside the mechanism. Plenty of artists can (and do) borrow the stern stomp of Front 242 or the bruised glamour of Black Celebration-era Depeche Mode. Dwyer makes those reference points feel lived in, not borrowed for the weekend and returned on Monday.
The video for Human Force, by Travis Shinn and Jeremy Danger, decides the best way to sell this sort of song is to trap the singer inside his own multiplication table. So there he is, boxed into a Brady Bunch grid, split, stacked, and repeated, as if identity itself has been fed through some cold little factory process and stamped out in handsome, severe succession — almost as if he’s a Major Arcana laid out in a digital spread. People now are forever being sorted, branded, displayed, and diced into presentable pieces. This video takes that condition and turns it into pop ritual, severe and seductive, like a nightclub sermon delivered by a malfunctioning saint.
It is a smart visual move because Dwyer has always made music for those moments when personhood starts to feel mass-produced, when desire gets regimented, and the body becomes both vehicle and victim. Human Force has that severe, synthetic strut Buzz Kull does so well, and Dwyer’s presence rides over it with the stern glamour of a man who has read the riot act to his own bloodstream. He does not mug for the camera. He stares it down like he’s filing a grievance against existence itself.
The lyrics to Human Force pit private consciousness against a world bent on burial, pressure, and collapse, with Dwyer returning again and again to the idea of an inner voice struggling to make life legible under strain. Where the words reach inward toward survival, visibility, and the frailty of human will inside vast systems of violence, the video turns outward, leaning into symmetry, duplication, and that nasty little tension between order and annhilation: faces recur, frames subdivide, blue light gives way to red, and Dwyer appears splintered across the screen like a series of selves pinned beneath the fluorescent thumb of modern life.
The cameo from Cold Cave‘s Wesley Eisold only deepens the sense of the video’s shared underground liturgy, one high priest nodding to another in a chapel built from drum machines and bad dreams. Yet the star here is structure itself: the compartments, the mirrored angles, the serial repetitions.
By the end, Dwyer has not escaped the grid. That is precisely why the clip works. It knows freedom is overrated as a visual cliché. Sometimes the more truthful image is a man caught in the boxes, still moving, still glaring, still making the trap look chic enough that you might willingly step inside.
Watch the video for Human Force below:
Deep Hate is out now via Heartworm Press. Order the EP here.
Buzz Kull Tour Dates:
- April 17, 2026 — Los Angeles, CA — Pacific Electric
- April 23, 2026 — Philadelphia, PA — Theatre of Living Arts
- April 24, 2026 — Baltimore, MD — Baltimore Soundstage
- April 25, 2026 — Brooklyn, NY — Pioneer Works
- April 29, 2026 — Chicago, IL — Metro
- May 2, 2026 — Detroit, MI — St. Andrew’s Hall
- June 26, 2026 — Newtown, NSW — The Vanguard
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