Dead Register has announced a deluxe remastered 10th anniversary edition of their landmark debut Fiber, due May 22, 2026, remastered once again by Dan Dixon and featuring the unreleased live bonus track “Reverse.” It’s the ideal occasion to celebrate the Atlanta trio’s gothic-doom masterpiece, originally released May 6, 2016 on AVR Records.
M. Chvasta (vocals, bass VI), Avril Che (bass synth, keys, textures, vocals), and Chad Williams (drums) fused the transcendent sorrow of Dead Can Dance with Godflesh’s seismic low-end and the sprawling post-metal of Isis and Neurosis, all filtered through 80s darkwave and death-rock. The result remains one of the most seductive and singular records in the doomgaze canon—syrupy, morose, and impossibly addictive.
“Alone” opens with cavernous bass and Chvasta’s velvet tenor crooning “You’re not alone anymore,” transforming isolation into intimate communion. The title track simmers with taut acoustic tension before detonating into sludge grooves and a devastating bass solo that feels like relational grief made audible. “Drawing Down” (8:03) delivers the emotional summit—hypnotic cycles swelling into velvet waves—while “Grave” pairs thunderous snares with shimmering synths that crack like ice over frozen lakes. “Entwined” injects dance-floor darkwave propulsion and lush harmonies, proving gloom can be sexy and propulsive. Closer “Incendiary” lifts Chvasta’s register into bleating sorrow, harmonized by Che over churning riffs and crashing cymbals that leave the chest hollow.
Dixon’s pristine original mix already let every gut-pulverizing layer breathe; the forthcoming remaster will only deepen the immersion. A decade on, Fiber still feels urgent and timeless—no one else marries these elements with such precise, intoxicating darkness. Critics were right then and remain right now: “one of a kind,” “utterly compelling,” a “world of light and shadow, lavish and wild.”
As the band prepares to reissue this gothic opioid with fresh clarity and a live bonus, Fiber reaffirms its status as essential listening for anyone craving dark intimacy delivered through sonic heft. Ten years later, it still grabs you by the throat—and refuses to let go.