SEAR CONFRONTS THE INNER DEMON ON DEBUT ALBUM ‘MIRROR • MALICE • SELF’

Mirror • Malice • Self is the debut album from Swedish band SEAR, a project that originally began as Daniel Muhr’s solo outlet before evolving into a fully realized band. The album took years to complete, in large part because the lyrics function like a personal diary, capturing the darkest emotions and most intrusive thoughts that surfaced throughout Daniel’s life.

At its core, the record confronts the inner demon most people carry. The voice that says you are not good enough, that what you create has no worth, that no one will ever truly connect with what you do. Rather than pushing those thoughts aside, Sear puts them front and center and builds the album around facing them head-on.

That vulnerability is reflected in the music itself. Heavy rock is blended with electronic elements and subtle jazzy harmonies, creating a sound that is powerful yet melodic, beautiful but undeniably broken. That sense of fracture becomes the album’s emotional backbone, setting the stage for everything that follows on Mirror • Malice • Self. Let’s dig in:

The album opens with “The Pill,” an immediate statement that defines who SEAR is from the first beat. It is abrasive, tightly wound, and drenched in darkness. The drums hit with a mechanical pulse reminiscent of Carpenter Brut, but slowed down into something more ominous and deliberate.

A thick industrial atmosphere drives the track, carrying shades of Marilyn Manson and Nine Inch Nails without leaning too heavily on either. As the song builds, the vocals rise and sharpen the track’s identity, adding emotional weight to the tension underneath.

“The Pill” feels cinematic and unsettling in the best way, like it belongs in the opening scene of a late-night indie sci-fi thriller.

Featuring Erik Stütz on drums, track two, “Thornhead,” wastes no time shifting gears. His analog-driven attack crashes in immediately, and the song hits the accelerator without hesitation. While it carries some of the darker tonal DNA of the opener, this is where the project fully leans into rock territory.

The guitars are feverish and unrelenting, tearing through the mix as the track builds momentum. Daniel Muhr delivers a hook that is sharp, urgent, and packed with angst, balancing grit with undeniable catchiness. In the background, guitarist Andrej Valic and bassist Robert Engberg layer in supporting vocals that add texture and intensity, giving the chorus extra lift and weight.

“Thornhead” feels bigger, louder, and more combustible, a clear statement that SEAR is not easing up anytime soon.

“A Slip Into Mortality” opens with hushed, ominous vocals drifting over an eerie synth line, immediately setting a foreboding tone. Moments later, the drums rise to the surface, and Daniel Muhr’s voice settles in, dark and controlled, pulling the listener deeper into the atmosphere.

The tempo eases back compared to the first two tracks, but the scale never shrinks. It still feels massive and deliberate, trading speed for weight and tension. If anything, the restraint makes it hit harder, reinforcing that this record is shaping up to be relentless from every angle.

The fourth track, “Greystoked,” brings the guitars and bass roaring back to the forefront. The rhythm section is relentless here, with Erik Stütz delivering some of his most explosive drumming on the record. The anger and velocity are impossible to miss, surging through every bar.

Andrej Valic’s guitar work takes center stage, ripping into a gnarly mid-song solo that feels earned rather than excessive. It is placed with precision, elevating the track instead of interrupting its momentum. Meanwhile, the synth lines dart and spiral through the mix, adding a chaotic edge that keeps the energy unpredictable. “Greystoked” feels volatile in the best way, controlled chaos with serious bite.

“A Notion Dressed In White” opens with a wash of synths and textured effects that immediately pull the album back into shadow. A somber piano line soon enters, adding depth and a haunting elegance to the arrangement. If there is a track on this record that makes your bones creak, it is this one.

Lines like “I now taste the pain, it’s driving you insane when you open your heart” cut straight through the haze. The song explores the slow transformation of someone slipping into a hollow version of themselves, emotionally distant and unrecognizable.

It remains restrained and brooding throughout, offering a necessary breath after the record’s high octane moments. Instead of exploding, it lingers, proving that SEAR can be just as powerful in stillness as it is in chaos.

The sixth track, “Malice,” feels like an undeniable centerpiece. It is the kind of song you can already imagine echoing across a packed European festival crowd long after the sun has gone down. From the jump, it comes in full force with driving guitars, pounding drums, and a widescreen sense of scale that feels larger than life.

When the verse settles in, Daniel Muhr’s vocals glide over pulsing synths with a cool restraint before the chorus detonates into something wildly infectious. It is bold, dramatic, and impossible not to latch onto after the first listen.

“Malice” stands out as one of the strongest moments on the album. Fans of Depeche Mode and She Past Away will absolutely devour this one.

“Ghost” feels like a masterclass in blending synths and guitars into one cohesive force rather than two competing textures. Where “Malice” thrives on an explosive scale, this track pulls the tempo back and leans into atmosphere, carving out its own distinct identity.

The darkness never lifts. Instead, it settles in and lingers. Layers of brooding synths wrap around restrained guitar lines, creating a soundscape that feels reflective and quietly ominous. It is less about impact and more about immersion, drawing the listener inward and holding them there.

Arriving as the penultimate track on Mirror • Malice • Self, “Tailspin” erupts like a controlled firestorm. It is dense, urgent, and unrelenting from the first note. Daniel Muhr’s vocal delivery taps into that same cold, commanding energy fans associate with She Wants Revenge, and it absolutely works here.

The guitars and bass lock in tightly, pushing the song into another dimension while the drums anchor the chaos with force and precision. It feels like a full-scale ambush of dark rock textures, surging forward without hesitation. “Tailspin” does not just build momentum toward the finale; it barrels straight into it.

“Prophecy” closes the album as a fitting and powerful culmination of everything that came before it. A soft, distant piano introduces the track, creating a quiet sense of space before Daniel Muhr’s silky, controlled vocals drift in and take hold.

At seven minutes long, the song gives the band room to stretch, gradually unfolding and revealing the full spectrum of their sound. It moves with patience and intention, balancing restraint with emotional weight. Rather than going out in chaos, Mirror • Malice • Self ends on something expansive and cinematic, a final statement that showcases just how versatile and ambitious this group truly is.

When you sit with Mirror • Malice • Self front to back, it feels like a fully realized album, not just a batch of dark tracks stitched together. There is a clear through line running from the first note of “The Pill” to the final moments of “Prophecy.” The pacing makes sense. The mood evolves. Nothing feels accidental.

SEAR understands how to build tension across an entire record. They know when to go for the throat and when to let the atmosphere breathe. The industrial grit, the rock aggression, the cinematic synth work all feel like parts of the same machine. It is cohesive without being repetitive.

More than anything, this album sounds confident. SEAR is not experimenting for the sake of it. They are refining a vision. Mirror • Malice • Self feels like a defining statement, the kind of record that shows exactly who this band is and where they are headed next.