Straight-edge doom from Arizona is already a pretty wild concept, but Drug Dependency takes things a step further by making doom metal that sounds like it was written and recorded by cavemen who just discovered distortion pedals. This demo is filthy, primitive, and determined to make everything sound like it's collapsing into a bottomless pit. The DIY production is rough around the edges, but rather than killing the atmosphere, it gives the music a scrappy identity that fits the band's approach. Across four tracks, Drug Dependency build a sound around cavernous riffs, chaotic bursts of grindcore, hollow drums, and vocals that sound like a rabid animal fighting its way out of a dumpster.

“Meth for a Growing Heart” opens with an eerie, submerged bass tone that feels like it's coming from the bottom of a well. Before there's much time to settle into that atmosphere, the track launches into a blast of distorted powerviolence and grindcore chaos. The transition is abrupt, but it establishes the demo's appeal immediately: Drug Dependency aren't interested in making things comfortable. The lo-fi production gives the instruments a rough, almost unstable quality, although the drum taps remain surprisingly clear against the murky instrumental mix. That contrast helps the song maintain some definition without sacrificing its raw character. The vocals sound somewhere between a rabid dog and a garbage disposal malfunctioning at full speed. They're abrasive enough to fit the music, though I'd be curious to hear how they would sound with a slightly more defined metal production. The pacing is effective, too, making the short runtime feel like a concentrated beating rather than an unfinished idea.

“Gone is the Talking Cricket” pushes the distortion and chaos even further, picking up naturally from the opener without losing momentum. The drums sound deep and hollow, creating an almost hypnotic pulse beneath the murky noise. Whether the bass is buried somewhere in the mix or has decided to disappear entirely is difficult to tell, but the track doesn't seem particularly concerned with making every instrument easy to identify. Halfway through, eerie spoken-word passages introduce an unexpected sense of dread. It's a strange choice, yet it adds another dimension to the song instead of simply piling on more distortion. Toward the end, the drumming becomes increasingly feral, giving the track an ominous, almost ritualistic atmosphere. Seven minutes should feel like a long time for music this repetitive and abrasive, but the shifting intensity makes the song feel more like a fever dream than a slog.

“Make a Change” brings some massive, cavernous riffs that feel heavier than a guilty conscience. The production seems a little clearer here, allowing the guitars and drums to hit with more definition while retaining the demo's grimy character. The drumming has a primitive, almost tribal energy, as though the band are attempting to summon something deeply unpleasant from beneath the desert. The track also reinforces how well Drug Dependency use repetition. These riffs aren't technically complicated, nor do they need to be. Their strength comes from their weight and persistence, gradually wearing the listener down rather than trying to impress with unnecessary complexity. By this point, the filthy production feels less like a limitation and more like an essential part of the band's identity.

“Pinocchio is Dead” closes the demo with the kind of finale the preceding tracks have been building toward. The transition from “Make a Change” feels seamless, creating the impression that the whole release is one continuous descent into something increasingly ugly. Thunderous drums establish the foundation while slow, dense riffs crawl forward with crushing force. The vocals sound even more deranged here, alternating between rapid, unhinged screams and a muffled delivery that occasionally makes them difficult to decipher. That lack of clarity is one of the few things that works against the track. Raw vocals are part of the appeal, but there are moments when they become so buried that their impact gets lost in the mix. Still, the pacing is excellent. The song doesn't drag, and it doesn't feel rushed toward an arbitrary ending. Instead, it brings the demo to a satisfying conclusion that makes the full release feel best experienced in one sitting.

Drug Dependency have carved out a sound that's both filthy and oddly mesmerizing. The production won't appeal to everyone, and listeners looking for crisp instrumentation or carefully separated mixes should probably look elsewhere. But the demo's roughness gives it a personality that a cleaner recording might struggle to capture. The mixture of doom, grindcore, primitive grooves, and unsettling vocal passages keeps the four tracks distinct enough to remain engaging, even when the riffs occasionally blur together. It's ugly music with a clear sense of purpose, and that goes a long way. Pinocchio may be dead, but Drug Dependency are still dragging his remains through a distortion pedal.