Director of the movie wrote myself into the scene
Stitched myself into the suit, now I’m stretching out the seams
Delusions of my glory, who’s the hero in the story?
Guess I’ve leaned into it now
A love once electric turns to ruin, a game played and lost, the cards dealt, the damage done. The pain lingers, familiar, almost comforting—a fire that once burned bright now smoldering in its absence. Revenge fades into resignation, the role long rehearsed, the suit ill-fitting, but worn all the same. The script is set.
A neon-drenched descent into chaos, This Is My New Hell barrels forward with the reckless momentum of a machine built to malfunction. The latest from Celebrity Death Slot Machine (CSDM), this lead single from Convertible Hearse (out 23 May via EXAG’ Records & Mothland) is a gaudy, grinning, teeth-clenched celebration of ruin—where love combusts, rhythm convulses, and every sound teeters between precision and collapse.
It’s Y2K synth punk dialed to delirium, Benny Benassi Satisfaction swallowed by the deadpan disassociation of Cake—a gloriously unhinged, full-throttle carnival of self-destruction. A staccato synth line jitters like a faulty circuit, kickdrums quake, hi-hats distort into metallic shrapnel. Industrial guitars snarl, Moog melodies slither, and an array of unplaceable noises screech through the mix like signals from some deranged intercom. Three voices swap verses like bad omens, trading tales of heartache turned hysteria, before a deadpan choir leans in with a smirk.
“This Is My New Hell picks up…at the bottom of the stairs holding your shoes on the sidewalk with a frenetic bassline pumping in the back of your head,” says the band. “You call a car to come get you and light up a sneaky joint to smooth out the edges of the evening you’re running from. You can feel the sweat of a thousand bodies on you like a film as your ride pulls up – crash landing on the curb before you seemingly from the sky, the high beams threaten your very existence through a violent plume of smoke, preceding the arrival of the glorious white vessel emblazoned with a crimson red stripe. You half expect, maybe secretly hope, for it to be brimming with aliens.”
The video lurches forward like a fever dream, a dizzying descent through the warped corridors of the Inferno, where every step sinks deeper into the bizarre and the blasphemous. The journey twists, writhes, unspools—faces flicker, bodies convulse, time stutters like a broken reel. Flames lick at the edges, but no one burns. Instead, at the pit’s core, there’s no torment, no wailing, no gnashing of teeth—just an endless, relentless strobe-lit dance party where the damned keep time to a beat that never breaks. The bass throbs like a second heartbeat, sweat drips, neon flickers against soot-stained walls. Hell, it turns out, isn’t about suffering—it’s about surrender. You don’t escape. You don’t resist. You just move.
Watch below:
You can pre-save the single and Convertible Hearse here.
CDSM spoke with Post-Punk.com about their recording and creative processes:
The recording process for Convertible Hearsesounds like it was an intense and highly productive period. How did that fast-paced, almost immersive experience impact the overall energy and cohesion of the album?
I would say the pacing was natural – the energy and cohesion can be attributed to our many years working together and understanding each other on that intimate level. Everyone in CDSM has been performing together in different combinations and capacities for over ten years, so there is a level of comfortability and chemistry that we’ve built. We know when something is working and when it is not, we know when someone else should be taking the lead, we also know when to step away – when we were finished tracking after two weeks, we didn’t listen to the mixes for over a month. The breath we collectively took was paramount to the way we approached mixing the record.
With all three lead vocalists featured on “This Is My New Hell,” how do you approach balancing different voices and perspectives within a single track while maintaining a unified sound?
This was the first time we’d ever attempted having three leads on the track but it really happened naturally, we just had more fun passing the track back and forth than we thought about how it would come across. Entertaining each other is an important part of our process.
Your music blends dark, gothic textures with danceable, high-energy rhythms. When writing, do you consciously aim for that contrast, or does it naturally emerge from your creative process?
We prefer to just pull the thread and see where it leads us. We try to trust that the song will lead us where it needs to go. We definitely wanna make the asses shake. If we aren’t dancing while making it who would dance to it while listening to it?
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