Walk alone, reflections in glass
Head down, feel the glare staring back
It sees, receives and it leads
I’ve got angels watching over me
Neo Dimes’ Alone arrives with its teeth bared and its heart sealed inside a panic room. Stephen Edmunds, the Denver musician behind the project, has made a debut full-length steeped in industrial rock, dark synth tension, and bruised private terror: the dread machinery of Nine Inch Nails, the devotional grandeur of Songs of Faith and Devotion-era Depeche Mode, the narcotic pressure of Massive Attack, and the dread of a man confronting fatherhood as the public world grows meaner, colder, and more automated.
Alone studies addiction, technology, ideology, romance, grief, and memory as interlocking systems of control. These songs describe a life under constant surveillance: trained, tempted, sorted, sold, and finally abandoned. The album’s deepest fear, however, is older than any device or algorithm: it is the terror of being left alone inside your own head, reaching outward, and finding no hand reaching back.
Beasts retreats from the judging outside world into a hidden interior where alienation hardens into appetite. Hope collapses into instinct, and the self becomes something fed by its own exile. Angels is sharper still, recasting guardianship as surveillance. Glass, screens, and invisible networks replace divine protection, turning guidance into control and attention into captivity. The song understands how modern life sells convenience while quietly narrowing the room. God’s Perfect Meme savages hypocrisy, grift, and cultural exhaustion, where lies become performance and everyone is too numb or compromised to challenge them. The song glimpses escape, change, and grace slipping further out of reach.
Trigger turns alcohol into the spark that sets addiction, anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation in motion, but Edmunds locates the deeper wound with painful clarity: “Alcohol is the trigger that brings on all kinds of other issues (addiction, anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation), but all of that pales in comparison to how terrifying loneliness and both physical and emotional isolation is to me,” he admits. The song moves through shame, self-sabotage, and the brutal mercy of truth, where revelation can only offer deliverance after it has cut through every lie once used for survival.
Directed by Ty Borkowski, the video extends that private terror into the public realm, tracing the impact of mass media through the image of an authoritarian figure commanding the masses from the glow of broadcast television. It channels an Orwellian nightmare in which isolation is exploited, fear becomes programming, and control arrives disguised as communication.
Watch below:
Don’t Think pushes that fear into the public square, attacking groupthink, propaganda, and apocalyptic obedience. Authority twists language until lies feel liberating and cruelty starts passing for clarity. Edmunds hears the machinery that pulls disillusioned people toward extremism: give them grievance, give them enemies, give them a script, then call surrender awakening.
The political charge grows from a personal crisis. “I recently lost a career right as my daughter came into…a world where she has fewer rights than her mother did and where tyranny is creeping into every facet of life,” Edmunds reflects. “We’re addicted to the technology in our pockets that opens us to the world by consuming us entirely. It’s omnipresent and inescapable, and I’m pissed off.”
Obsidian confronts guilt, false purity, and the ruin left by deception, while One Thing turns betrayal into sleepless obsession, where freedom depends on an answer that may never arrive. How To Love lowers its guard, pleading for patience, trust, and the chance to repair what fear has damaged. It Comes and Goes sits with grief as a recurring force, carrying regret, drinking, spiritual exhaustion, and the stubborn will to move forward anyway. Ending with Dear Ghosts, the album reaches toward renewal through wreckage, finding no easy absolution, only the hard work of staying alive when the ghosts keep calling.
Even the release strategy comes with a raised fist. Physical copies of Alone arrive on vinyl and cassette a month before the digital version, a pointed act against the scroll-and-discard economy that turns songs into passing data. “The single covers convey the album’s story, with each song’s cover serving as a chapter and visual representation of paranoia, persuasion, control, and acceptance that fuse together to form the final album cover,” says Edmunds.
Edmunds is blunt about the intent: “The album concept and the release itself is a fuck you to the tech overlords and the world they have foisted on all of us.” That anger gives the album its charge, but the pain underneath gives it weight. All things considered, a strong debut from Neo Dimes.
Listen to Alone below and order the album here.
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