RHOADS UNLEASHES RAW, UNFILTERED PUNK ON ASPHYXIATION

Asphyxiation marks RHOADS’ return from a place of isolation with a release that feels urgent, confrontational, and impossible to ignore. Fast, hardcore, and aggressively DIY, the EP doesn’t aim to comfort or entertain so much as it seeks to confront. These songs question the state of the world, the suffocating grip of capitalistic and religious propaganda, and the unchecked voices that refuse to know when to shut up. It’s a slap in the face to ego-driven decision-makers who thrive at everyone else's expense, and it wears that intent proudly.

At its core, Asphyxiation is a release valve. Written, recorded, and performed entirely by Dale Carmichael, the project channels inner tension, anger, and pain into a raw, brutally honest expression. Profoundly personal circumstances shape the EP, created using much of Carmichael’s late father’s gear in the very house he now rents, located beside the site of the accident that took his father’s life when he was twelve. That weight is felt throughout the record, not as sentimentality, but as pressure. Every track sounds like an internal dialogue turned outward, transforming grief and frustration into noise that hits fast and leaves marks. Let’s dig in:

Short, ruthless, and unapologetic, Asphyxiation thrives on immediacy. It strips punk back to its essentials, urgency, conviction, and refusal, and lets the message land without dilution. From the moment it starts, it’s clear this record isn’t asking permission or offering explanations. It exists to be loud, uncomfortable, and honest, exactly as punk should be.

“System Decay” kicks off Asphyxiation with an explosive surge of punk rock energy that every LA punk should be paying attention to. From the jump, the drums crack like a starting gun while the bass comes in thick and thumping, lighting the fuse and sending the track into a sweaty, full-speed frenzy. It’s raw, urgent, and completely unpretentious, the kind of opener that grabs you by the collar and refuses to let go.

If you didn’t already know, Rhoads is the work of Dale Carmichael and Dale alone. One person writing, recording, and driving the entire operation. Something is compelling about a one-man punk project done right, and this is precisely that: no excess, no dilution, just pure intent and conviction blasting through every second of the track.

“System Decay” doesn’t overthink itself and doesn’t need to. It thrives on momentum, attitude, and a DIY spirit that feels deeply rooted in punk’s core ethos. As an opening statement, it sets the tone perfectly and makes it clear that Rhoads isn’t here to ask permission. This is punk stripped down to its essentials, and it absolutely rips.

“Capitalistic Scum” is punk rock in its purest, most unfiltered form. It’s a blunt-force rejection of the establishment, delivered without apology or restraint. Clocking in at just over a minute, the track wastes zero time, unloading everything it needs to say in a furious burst of noise, speed, and conviction.

There’s no filler here, no polish, no attempt to soften the message. It’s fast, loud, and confrontational, the kind of song that exists to be shouted back at the band from the front of the room. This is true punk by definition, distilled down to its most essential elements. We can already picture fans losing their minds and moshing without hesitation when this one hits live.

The title track, “Asphyxiation,” lands as the third song on the album and continues the momentum set by the openers, with Carmichael absolutely devouring every instrument at peak punk-rock intensity. There’s no drop in energy here, only a sharper edge and an even tighter grip on chaos. Every note feels deliberate and unrelenting, driven by urgency rather than excess.

Clocking in at just about a minute, the song is short by design and brutal in execution. It’s meant to leave you sweaty, rattled, and slightly unhinged, forcing you to confront the suffocating weight of the society we’re currently navigating. “Asphyxiation” doesn’t linger or explain itself. It hits hard, says what it needs to say, and disappears just as fast, leaving the listener buzzing and ready for whatever comes next.

“Leave Me Be” closes Asphyxiation with a final, no-holds-barred burst of energy, and it’s exactly the kind of ending this record demands. Loud, ferocious, and completely unfiltered, the track finds Carmichael emptying the tank for one last charge, refusing to let the album fade out quietly.

Like much of the record, it clocks in at under a minute, but every second counts. There’s no excess, no hesitation, just pure urgency and release. “Leave Me Be” says what it needs to speak as quickly and forcefully as possible, slamming the door shut on Asphyxiation and leaving the listener breathless, rattled, and wanting to hit play again.

Taken as a whole, Asphyxiation is a blistering statement of intent. Rhoads doesn’t overstay its welcome, doesn’t chase trends, and doesn’t soften its edges. Every track hits fast, hard, and with purpose, embodying punk at its most stripped-down and confrontational. There’s a clarity in that approach that feels refreshing, especially in a time when excess often overshadows urgency.

What makes Asphyxiation land is its conviction. As a one-person operation, Dale Carmichael channels frustration, anger, and resistance into something immediate and visceral, proving that punk doesn’t need polish or permission to be effective. This record exists to be played loud, sweated through, and screamed along to. Short, ruthless, and unapologetic, Asphyxiation leaves its mark and then gets out of the way, exactly how punk should.