Gawd only knows why this Oxnard outfit chose such a sunny, escapist name for its claustrophobic, cruelly mechanical deathcore. Bermuda's vision is bleak, urban and decayed, evoking blackened cityscapes, where the machines (depicted by fiercely disciplined and detuned stop-start guitars atop nail-gun kick drums) have turned on their lonely, horrified makers (voiced by Corey's Bennett's truly worrying, trapped-soul retching). New album The Wandering forcibly opens listeners' ears to grisly, tortured tales artfully made all the more agonizing by windows of arpeggiated, twinkly guitar and boyish clean vocals offering momentary respites from the torment. Suffering themselves and wanting all others to likewise suffer, Bermuda have nothing nice to say but just keep on talking.

Sun., May 11, 6 p.m., 2014
(Expired: 05/11/14)

Advertising disclosure: We may receive compensation for some of the links in our stories. Thank you for supporting LA Weekly and our advertisers.

LA Weekly